THE TRAIN

By Anita Rothfeld, a member of Get Your WordsWorth

My life began and ended on a train.

It was August 1, 1943, a gorgeous summer day. I left the beach early because I had made an appointment with Aunt Labella to go to see “This is the Army” at Radio City Music Hall.

Just as I got to the platform of the Stillwell Ave. station, the train doors slammed shut. O dear.

The platform filled up. Suddenly, clearly, someone was whistling the lovely “Meadowland”

I turned to see a handsome soldier whistling away.

TERMS OF ENDEARMENT

By Anita Rothfeld, a member of Get Your WordsWorth

I called to thank her for the Obama button she left in a bag on my doorknob.

I’m not sure how the ensuing conversation began  – but it went something like –

“My husband never called me darling. Everyone calls me Toni.

My name is really Tonia.

My husband called me — my —“

DON’T WASH ME, JUST LOVE ME TENDER

By Anita Rothfeld, a member of Get Your WordsWorth

I had an aunt named Charlotte. We had just gotten a washing machine, which was placed in the kitchen. My mother and Aunt Charlotte were there for the inaugural wash. We had an inaugural lunch at the end of which we had cake and coffee. The cake was my mother’s special cheesecake. It was a happy time.