Sample 1 I was born on the coldest morning anyone in town could remember. Dr. Jenkins’ car wouldn’t start, so he rode his horse out to our farm. By the time he arrived, my Aunt Kitty and my sister Helen had already cleaned me up, wrapped me in a blanket, and placed me in bed next to Mother. Until the day he died, Dr. Jenkins always called me “Speedy.” Sample 2 My brother and I learned to ice skate in the marsh down the hill from our house in Avon, Connecticut. As soon as it was cold enough for the swamp to freeze over, we would eagerly race down the steep path and put on the double-runner skates that fit over our winter boots. The water was no more than a foot deep, so thin ice was a nuisance rather than a danger. The trick, we discovered, was to skate in the narrow spaces between the tufts of swamp grass that protruded from the ice. Eventually, I outgrew the skates and we moved away from Avon. My next pair of skates had splendid white leather boots and sharp single blades. I was very proud of them. In retrospect, however, my fondest memories of ice skating are my earliest. I close my eyes, and I can still see my brother wobbling in front of me as the silent labyrinth of the frozen marsh stretches out endlessly before us.
|
