The year was 1952 and I was four years of age. My mother and I were living with my maternal grandparents. Grandma O'Brien was a joy-sucking woman whose only goal in life appeared to be to render everyone within her control as miserable as possible, as much as possible and as many hours per day as possible. This was one of her most successful days.

My newly divorced mother had found a little job downtown somewhere and had received her first
paycheck on this day. On her way home, she purchased me a pair of roller skates, the kind which fit over your shoes and the size could be adjusted. She was so pleased and proud with herself for being able to do something nice for her little girl and enjoy some financial independence.

Mother walked in the door from work, bearing this gift of roller skates and handed them to me. She was lit up like a neon sign with joy! I sat down and attached them to my shoes, also abeam with joy. Then I stood up and attempted to skate and promptly fell on my butt. As a short four year old, it wasn't far to fall so I got right back up to try again.

By this time, grandma O'Brien must have sensed too much joy within her usual gloomy home. She came charging out of the kitchen, snatched the skates off my feet and began a two day continuous yelling rant about how stupid was the purchase and how I could be injured, etc., etc. Everyone suffered, even my grandfather who was an innocent bystander. He was somehow made at fault as grandma yelled, stomped her feet as she charged throughout the apartment slamming things and causing this horrible turmoil until she ran out of steam a couple days later.

I still remember the joy and self-respect drain from my mother's face and don't remember it ever returning.

I was confused about why my skates had been taken away on that day that I almost owned roller skates.