Viewing page 189 of 207

This transcription has been completed. Contact us with corrections.

122

I have indicated that Miss Morris, one of the RNs who cared for me during some of my illnesses, found a very soft spot in my heart and I think perhaps she liked me although the last time I ever recall seeing her, I was perhaps 12 years old. I recall her once taking me with her to her apartment which was a small unit in a regular apartment house over on Irving Avenue not far from the university. Just what the circumstances were, I don't recall. She was a very pretty, tall, dark-haired girl in her twenties, I'd judge, and an excellent nurse, devoted and gentle and just nice to have around to say nothing of the pleasure of being taken care of by her. In fact, it was she who, quite innocently I'm sure, was responsible for one of my earliest sexual thrills. I was in bed and she came to me and leaned over me to adjust my pillows. Her uniform had a somewhat low neck and I suddenly found myself gazing right down the opening at her bare breasts as she had on no bra. It was a totally new experience and not at all unpleasant. It made such an impression on me that I can see the picture even yet; her breasts were small but round and firm, and something I'd never before seen in the flesh.

[[underline]]People[[/underline]]

In my graduating class at Lincoln, was a boy named Ashley Rosenberger, who lived far out on James Street in Eastwood not far from the Dennisons. Ashley was never a pal of mine and I have no recollection of ever even being in his house but I do recall that he somehow gave me my first awareness of the "Jewish situation." I don't know that Ashley was Jewish but his name sounded just a trifle suspicious and there was conjecture concerning his origins. There was no Jewish prejudice in our home; in fact, there were some Jewish doctors in town for whom my father had high regard, Dr. Elsner in particular. But in spite of all this, you couldn't escape a consciousness that the Jews were in a class apart, a bit different, as were the Catholics and the Wops.

One of my first lessons in propriety was administered to me by Jane Durston and Eleanor Grant at the Sedgwick Farm playground. I suppose all three of us were in the neighborhood of 11 or 12 years old. The two girls were playing in a big sandbox. They'd removed their shoes and stockings and as they sat in the box, they displayed quite an extensive amount of bareness. All I did was to walk over to the box to pass the time of day with them, to be greeted by Eleanor Grant with, "Forie, have a heart!" I somehow gathered that they felt somewhat nude and felt also that I was taking advantage of them. I retired in confusion but nevertheless aware that they had looked most attractive.

Somewhere I discover that Mary Barnes and I wrote notes to each other in class at Lincoln; this, of course, was severely frowned upon by the teacher but went on among many of the more daring.