When I was a little girl, growing up in Brooklyn NY, we used to live on a dead end street.
Our house was a semi-detached, and so we had a common wall with our neighbor next door. When I grew enough so that I was able to reach the electric outlet that was on that adjoining wall, I used it to speak through it with my neighbor friend, Sonja. We used it quite often in place of a telephone. We didn’t have a telephone yet, at that time. We had a bench against that wall in our kitchen, so I would stand on it to speak with her.
I also remember enjoying visiting Sonja in her house next door. Her parents were very nice, and her father played the mandolin. I loved listening to his music and watching how his fingers strummed the strings. It was the very first time I had seen someone play an instrument. He would sing in the Norwegian language; they were originally from Norway. Her mother baked the most wonderful cookies, too.! It was a warm, friendly home.
Sonja was 3 years older than I, and I remember playing in her backyard. My vivid memory from that time is of sitting at her play table; the chair I was sitting on matched the table and they were made of metal. I still can “hear” the scraping of the chair on the rough concrete of the yard as I moved it.
My father took this photo of Sonja and me with his simple box camera. I remember the leather carry-handle at the top of it. He developed his film in a small, dark closet in our house.
It was a more simple time of life, and there were many pleasures to be enjoyed.
Credits: dead end, agfa box camera; bingdotcom. Original old photos from personal collection of Sunshinebright.