She bought the bone and started to come home.

The turkey started to gobble,and shake his wattle, and Miss Perky said “oh, oh, I better buy him a comb.”

They then walked past a store; ”oh, oh, I forgot about those.” She bought potatoes, onions, carrots, celery,tomatoes and cheese.

The next store had shopping baskets out in front. “We need one of these. That will be good for our vegetables and cheese.” Miss Perky tied the turkey’s new comb around his neck and put him and the vegetables all in the new cart. “Oh I better not forget the bone.”

They were really on their way home now, that is until they passed a Pet Store.

”Hi” said Miss Perky,”I need some food for my turkey”

“I have just the thing” said the pet store owner. He knew just what the turkey would like to eat. It was a large sack of turkey feed specially put together for turkeys. He put it inside the cart and put the turkey on top. Miss Perky laid the bone on top of the turkey along with a carrot.

And finally they were on their way home.

Miss Perky brought the cart into her little house and took everything in the cart out and on to the floor. The turkey ran around the room. He flapped his wings. He let out screams that not even other turkeys ever heard.

He headed towards one of Miss Perky’s favorite pillows, and tore it to shreds. With feathers flying all over the house, and vegetables everywhere, Miss Perky didn’t feel too perky anymore.

She sat on the floor.

She held her head, and said, ”he didn’t even like his bone.”

Sometimes it’s just better to stay at home.

Oh Oh!

+HARRY BARRY WOULDN’T TALK

Harry Barry wouldn’t walk.
Harry Barry wouldn’t talk.
His mother said “OUT”,go out
And shout”.
She opened the door and pushed him out,
And peeked through the window.

There he stood all alone.
He turned around.
He turned around.
He turned around.
He turned around.
There was his house.

He rubbed his eyes and opened them wide.
He looked around,and on the ground.
The sun was shining everywhere.
On the house.
On the trees.

He opened his mouth and tried to shout.
He tried hard.
But nothing came out.

He took one step.
He took two steps.
He took three steps.
He looked up and said “Your a girl:.

My dad says that boys must never hit girls.
My dad says that boys never play rough
With girls and always try to help them.
She blinked her eyes and said “My name is Julie.
Could you help me find my blue ball?”

They walked around and looked on the ground.
They looked in a hole. They passed by a big tree.
They passed by a big tree.
They went over a wall. There was the ball.

“Thank you for helping me find my ball. Would you
Like to come to my house tomorrow and play with me?” said Julie.
“Sure, said Harry Barry. “See you tomorrow.”

He turned around and ran, and jumped, all the way home.
He got to the door and opened his mouth. Out came a SHOUT!
“YIPPY, HOORAY, I MADE A NEW FRIEND TODAY!”

The door opened wide,and there was his Mom. She said,
“Hi,honey, come in and have some milk and cookies”.

One of my dearest of friends and neighbors caused me  severe attacks of jealousy and envy. Part of it was her over-confidence; but most of it was her blond hair, and adorable freckles. But I think I’m getting too far ahead of myself.

Leslie was her name and she and her husband Norman lived a couple of doors down from us. She was a short story writer and Norman was an insurance salesman. He usually seemed overwhelmed by being married to her; but she was so incredibly sweet and gorgeous to look at, that he hung in there and put up with all her tantrums. He always forgave her as we all did.

They lived in a small indistinct house with a gorgeous landscaped yard.. Norman built her a little patio area and they surrounded it with white drapery fabric. The red and white striped pillows  gave it a more formal look.  Norman attached a hook on one of the poles so that Leslie could hang up her pet canary whenever she  came out to write her stories.

This usually happened at lunch,and I was often invited. I always contributed food for our little soirees and at times the combination turned out to be pretty ridiculous. Neither one of us seemed to mind. I would bring my sketch pads along and sketch, while she typed out her stories. We seldom ran out of ideas and the friendship went on for a few more years. On our own we both reached a comfortable level of success.

A chill suddenly took over us, and Leslie became more and more withdrawn. I couldn’t blame it on the onslaught of winter. I stayed away and soon picked up more friends.

It was on an early Sat. morning that I heard yelling, screaming, and swearing. I ran out to see if Leslie was alright. Norman was in the yard, and chopping down the construction that formed the patio. He had already torn down the canopy.

“Norman, stop it, what are you doing?”

”Get the hell out you bitch.”

Stunned I went back home. It was days later that I found out that Leslie had secretly packed up a few of her things, and left Norman a note explaining that she was leaving him for good, and was going with his best friend, and business partner, to live in Florida.

Soon after Real Estate Agents appeared, and the house sold to some nice newlyweds, but the neighborhood never seemed the same.

Shows:
Invitational show: La Salle  School, Pasadena,Ca.
Two Women Show: Westwood Center of the Arts
Village Square Gallery, Montrose,Ca

Exhibited at:
L.A.Art Association
Canyon Gallery Two-Enamels
Crafts Gallery Carlsbad,CA.-Enamels
Spring Street Enamels, Soho, N.Y.
Arroyo Craftsmen Gallery,So.Pas.-Enamels

Enamels @ Central Museum, Tokyo,Japan
Long Beach Art Association
Brand Gallery,Glendale,CA.
Tah Gallery, So.Pasadena
Two Heads Gallery,So.Pasadena
Carlotta’s Passion

Allied Fields:
Copper Enameling
Textile Design

All the Armenian guys I ever saw were much more robust, manly and taller than  Joe was. I imagined him to be a Slavic gypsy roaming the hill sides. Nothing romantic about him as far as  I could see. A short swarthy guy with broken teeth and unkempt in his appearance.  It suited his profession though, as he was  the neighborhood ragman.

Our relatives referred to him as “Grandma’s friend.” Through my tragic adolescent eyes I personally thought he was an idiot. He lived alone in a little shack by himself and spent time  at grandmothers house drinking coffee and eating pie. He usually came calling with a bag or two with fruit and vegetables.

I once asked him how he came to America, and he told me that when he became of age the Russians were coming for him to put him in the army. His mother got him dressed and ready and with tears in her eyes she pushed him out and slammed the door. He said he started running as fast as he could through the forest and never stopped until he reached the ocean.”I ran too fast for those Commies. They never caught up with me.”

At 3:00 in the afternoon my brother and I were told to go out in the back yard and water the trees and flowers ; but not too close to the house. Grandma would come out with us to get us started and Joe would call out to her in tones we never heard before… “Goosie, Hurry up and come in, I’m waiting for you.”

At the time, we never realized what was going on. A steady dose of romp and rolling in the hay.  Their relationship, as loose as it was,seemed to suit both of them.

Towards the end of his life our relatives asked him if he had any wishes that they could help him with. He said; ”Please, please don’t bury me next to any Commie Russians.”