I recently posted remembrances of my childhood. So, it has been documented that I was sort of a pistol growing up. In 1953, we lived in the center of town, somewhere by Euclid and Park. Tucson was a small town then. I could walk to school, go down to the YMCA, and pretty much bicycle my way all over town.
My parents worked, so it was up to me to get myself ready for school, lock the front door and skip my way down four or five blocks to school and my first-grade class.
Times sure have changed.
At any rate, it took me a while to accomplish my morning ritual without getting myself into too much trouble. However, I do remember one particular morning. I was running late and had to get the lead out. So, I quickly brushed my teeth, poured some stuff on my curly hair, grabbed my lunch box, and headed out the door. About halfway to school, I smelled something. It was a strange odor. Once in class, all my classmates looked at me and giggled. Somehow, I had grabbed the wrong bottle in the medicine cabinet and poured Mercurochrome on my head.
I still remember the hair-raising experience.
Photo: My first-grade hair dressing!
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