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  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Edith of No Special Place

  Always One More

  Family Portrait, Baltimore, 1936

  Inspector Bubby

  There Goes That Theory

  Now We’re Even

  Some People Don’t Understand About a Big Family

  I Wonder What It Would Be Like

  Keeping the Days Straight

  Why Can’t Summer Last Forever?

  Lucky Lenny

  One Summer Night

  Goodbye to Summer

  I Wish I Had New Back-to-School Clothes

  The First Day of Sixth Grade

  Poem Correction

  Still Searching

  Who I Am

  An Undeserved Nickname

  If Only...

  Even I Get in Trouble Sometimes

  A Wait-Till-Your-Father-Gets-Home! Yell

  It Could Be Worse

  When He Comes Home

  I Know Who I’m Not

  A Bad Fairy Tale

  Mom’s Birthday Surprise

  A September Swim with My Favorite Little Brother

  Open Wide

  Bubby Anne’s Store

  How We Got Our Name

  At Lunchtime Every Tuesday

  Keeping Kosher, Maryland-Style

  Trying to Be Polite at Eunice’s House

  My Dumb Neighbor

  After School

  Maybe I Should Be More Like Marian

  The Memory Dance

  Even in America

  Maybe I’m Not Cut Out to Be the Good Little Mother

  Raymond Gets into Trouble

  Not Everything Can Be Mended

  Staying Mad

  A Bad Sign

  That Night

  Somebody Listened

  An Explanation, Sort Of

  Disappearing Act

  They’re Lucky I Found Them

  I Wonder

  It’s Hard to Stay Mad at Bubby Etta

  It’s Our New Year

  Like We Do Every Year on Rosh Hashanah

  As Long as I’m Here

  October 2

  The Dreaded Bee

  Nobody’s Surprised

  Diner Division

  Winter’s on Its Way

  A Borrowed Holiday

  Another Christmas Morn

  My Present

  The Grass Isn’t Always Greener

  Mildred, Queen of Chocolates

  I Love Christmas Break

  Another Plaster Disaster

  No Plaster Patcher This Time

  We Are a Party

  It’s Not Always a Party Here, Though

  Some Things I Just Don’t Understand

  I’m Not the Performer in the Family

  Our Calling Card

  Now It’s Not Too Cold to Be Outside Anymore

  Signs of Spring

  Our Cousins Are Coming to Town for Passover

  Getting Ready for Passover

  A Second Chance

  Nobody Invites Us to Their House

  A Family Emergency

  The Worst Night Ever

  The Day Our Family Got Too Small

  Melvin’s Funeral

  It’s Passover No Matter What

  Sometimes I Forget

  It’s Shabbos

  When God Spoke to Mom

  The Meaning of Bittersweet

  Looking for a Way Out

  Back to School with a Plan

  A Crime

  Sometimes I Can’t Stand Mildred

  Working Late

  The One Good Thing About Working Late

  I Need to Know

  I Have a Good Excuse

  At the Diner Without Dad

  Something of My Own

  I Had a Coin Collection

  I Can Feel Summer Just Around the Corner

  An Inspiration

  Floating

  Even Bubbles Have to Work

  Bubby Comfort

  Our Secret

  I Have to See for Myself

  Who I Am Now

  Maybe He Does Care

  I Wish

  Ironing Out Memories

  No One Will Come to See Me Get My Award

  Awards Day, June 2, 1937

  After My Last Day of School

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  GLOSSARY

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Copyright © 2012 by Betsy R. Rosenthal

  All rights reserved. For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, write to Permissions, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company, 215 Park Avenue South, New York, New York 10003.

  Houghton Mifflin is an imprint of Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company.

  www.hmhbooks.com

  The text of this book is set in Centaur MT

  The photographs are courtesy of the Paul family.

  Glossary on pages 164–165.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Control Number 2011017124

  ISBN 978-0-547-61084-9

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  DOC 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  4500346196

  To my wonderfully loving and selfless mom,

  for sharing a lifetime of stories with me

  Edith of No Special Place

  I’m just plain Edith.

  I’m number four,

  and should anyone care,

  I’m eleven years old,

  with curly black hair.

  Squeezed / between /two / brothers,

  Daniel and Ray,

  lost in a crowd,

  will I ever be more

  than just plain Edith,

  who’s number four?

  In my overcrowded family

  I’m just another face.

  I’m just plain Edith

  of no special place.

  Always One More

  I saw these wooden nesting dolls in a store,

  the kind where you don’t know how many dolls

  there are altogether until you start

  opening them up,

  and there’s always

  one more inside,

  sort of like

  my family.

  Family Portrait, Baltimore, 1936

  We’re lined up:

  girl boy, girl boy, girl boy, girl boy, girl boy,

  and in the middle of us all, Dad,

  who ordered us to smile

  right before the Brownie clicked,

  standing stiff as a soldier,

  no smile on his face,

  and Mom’s beside him,

  a baby in her arms

  and in her rounded belly

  another one,

  just a trace.

  Inspector Bubby

  When Mom goes to the hospital

  to have this new baby,

  us older kids

  watch the younger ones

  and keep the house clean.

  We think we’re doing okay

  until Dad’s mother, Bubby Anne,

  comes over

  and runs her finger across the top

  of the china cabinet

  that we couldn’t even reach,

  just to show us the dust

  we’ve left behind.

  There Goes That Theory

  Nobody asked my opinion

  about having another sister or brother.

  But if someone had,

  I would have asked

  for another little sister,

  even though I was sure

  this new baby

  in Mom’s belly

  had to be a boy.

  How could I be s
o sure?

  Because the last girl she had was my sister Annette.

  Sometime after Annette came along,

  Mom collapsed

  and Dad rushed her to the hospital,

  where they took out one of her ovaries

  (part of her baby-making equipment,

  Bubby Anne told us).

  So my sisters and I thought

  it must have been

  the girl-making one

  because since the surgery

  Mom has had nothing but boys—

  my brothers Lenny, Melvin, Sol, and Jack.

  But now this baby in Mom’s belly

  turned out to be Sherry.

  And that’s the end

  of our ovary theory.

  Now We’re Even

  Maybe Mom and Dad

  wanted one last one

  to even things up.

  With six boys

  and now six girls,

  maybe they’re done.

  I guess there’s really

  no way of knowing,

  but I sure hope

  our family’s

  all done growing.

  Some People Don’t Understand About a Big Family

  My friends Connie and Eunice

  love coming to my house.

  To them it seems like

  we’re always having a party.

  But I’d rather go to their houses,

  where there’s room to move around

  without bumping into anybody

  and you never

  have to stand in line

  to use the bathroom.

  I Wonder What It Would Be Like

  To sleep by myself

  in this bed

  that holds three

  with all of the covers

  to cover

  just me.

  To spread my arms wide

  and lie

  at a slant

  with no other bodies

  to say

  that I can’t.

  To lie

  on a pillow,

  no feet in my face;

  I’d lie awake nights

  just feeling the space.

  Keeping the Days Straight

  Since it’s summertime

  and we aren’t back in school yet,

  I keep forgetting what day it is.

  So my brother Raymond

  teaches me the trick

  of checking what Mom’s making for dinner.

  Mondays are milkhik,

  Tuesdays, liver;

  Wednesdays are macaroni casserole days,

  Thursdays are meat,

  and Fridays we eat a Shabbos feast

  of chicken, chopped liver, and soup.

  Saturdays we have what’s left,

  and Sundays Dad brings home deli.

  So the day of the week

  all depends

  on what’s inside my belly.

  Why Can’t Summer Last Forever?

  Summer means

  we’re outside,

  trying to cool off.

  So my little brother Melvin

  grabs my hand

  and we run by the garden hose

  that Mom’s waving around.

  We scream with glee

  as she hoots and sprays us

  with its misty breath.

  Summer means

  trips to the shore with Dad,

  where we all play tag

  with the waves

  and build castles in the sand

  and then, on the way home,

  stop for kosher dogs,

  lathered with mustard,

  like shaving cream on a man’s face.

  Summer means

  matinees at the Roxy Theatre

  on weekdays,

  not just weekends,

  and taking my brothers and sisters

  to the park

  to play dodge ball

  and horseshoes

  and hum in the kazoo band.

  Why can’t summer last forever?

  Lucky Lenny

  Last Sunday

  when Dad took us to swim in the bay

  at Workmen’s Circle Lodge,

  my little brother Lenny slipped

  on a plum pit in the pavilion

  and broke both his legs.

  He’s in the hospital now,

  getting loads of comic books,

  marbles, and card games

  and more candy buttons and chocolate licorice

  than he could ever eat,

  and the nurses are fluffing up his pillows

  and bringing him grape soda all the time.

  He’s even making new friends,

  playing war and go fish

  with the man in the next bed.

  Today when we went to swim,

  I looked as hard as I could

  for my own

  plum pit.

  One Summer Night

  My little sister Marian is missing again,

  so Dad packs some of us into his Hudson

  (we can’t all fit)

  and we drive around until we finally find Marian

  in the park,

  bouncing her little paddle board and ball,

  not even noticing the dark

  at all.

  When we get home,

  Dad uses Marian’s paddle,

  but not on the ball,

  and she doesn’t act like she’s sorry

  at all.

  Goodbye to Summer

  When Dad’s mother, Bubby Anne,

  gives us all pairs of new socks

  to wear to school,

  it’s time to say goodbye to summer.

  When Mom’s mom, Bubby Etta,

  reaches into her shopping bag

  full of crayons, jacks, and candy

  and hands each of us

  “a little something special

  to start off the new school year,”

  it’s time to say goodbye to summer.

  But I wish it wasn’t.

  Now I’ll have to go to school all day

  instead of swimming

  at the Patterson Park pool

  and playing stickball

  with Daniel and his friends

  and taking Melvin to the Roxy

  to see the Popeye cartoons.

  I’ll have to get up early,

  even before the sun rubs the sleep

  out of its eyes.

  I’ll have to face math tests

  and spelling bees and homework,

  and the weather will turn dreary and stormy

  like in a scary movie.

  I know it’s time to say goodbye to summer,

  but I’d much rather be saying hello.

  I Wish I Had New Back-to-School Clothes

  But in my family

  we wear

  hand-me-down

  down

  down

  down

  downs.

  The First Day of Sixth Grade

  My new teacher, Miss Connelly,

  is making us write a poem

  about our family.

  It’s not exactly fair

  because mine will have to be really, really long.

  I’ll start with Dad,

  who only wanted lots of kids

  so he could put us all to work

  at his diner when we’re old enough.

  Then Mom,

  who works hard all day at the diner

  and all night at home,

  but still finds time to dance with us

  and make us caramel apples on a stick,

  no matter how tired she is.

  Then there’s Sylvia, my oldest sister,

  who never tells on me

  if I sneak a slice of pie at the diner

  when Dad’s not there,

  and Mildred, the queen of us all,

  who likes to wave the candy and flowers

  in our faces

  that she gets
from her dozens

  of boyfriends,

  and Daniel, the favorite son,

  who would walk the plank for Mom

  if she asked him to,

  and whenever he earns a little money,

  he buys something special just for her.

  Then there’s Raymond, who I help

  with schoolwork,

  although he sometimes skips school

  and always seems to get spanked

  more than the rest of us,

  and Marian, who is never done playing,

  so I have to drag her home for dinner

  while she screams so loud the neighbors

  think I’m murdering her,

  and Annette, who follows me around

  all the time

  and cries waterfall tears

  when I try to lose her,

  and Lenny, Sol, and Jack,

  the three musketeers,

  who are always looking for adventure,

  always finding trouble,

  and Melvin, my very favorite,

  who walks to the bakery with me

  to get the Sabbath challah,

  holding on to my pinkie finger

  with his little hand,

  his brown ringlets bouncing

  from side to side.

  And finally, there’s Sherry,

  who’s just a baby in a carriage

  and the last child

  (I hope!)