Seven Thin Dimes

By Janet Roberts

Seven Thin Dimes takes readers to the heart of what family means, and the value of the things in life that money cannot buy.  Select memories of Janet Roberts’ childhood visits to her grandmother’s house in McDonald, Pennsylvania, are captured here in this engaging, thoughtful memoir.  A collection of essays, it was originally written as a gift to the author’s family following the death of her grandmother, Esther Masquelier, and was never intended for publication.  The essays here are the inspiration behind placing The Narrow Gate, her debut novel, in the town of McDonald.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Janet Roberts
• Release date: May 30, 2016
• ISBN: 9780997389630

Janet Roberts

Janet Roberts of Nottinghamshire, England is a passionate humanitarian, healer and author. For more than 20 years she has written features for the local Talking Newspaper for the Blind; and has had several articles in national magazines like Best of British, This England, and History Today; She's written several children's books (Coming Home, Face at the Window, Secrets, and The Boy and the Monkey). And her novel Every 4 Minutes in 2011, with the sole intention of raising much-needed funds for the leprosy charity, Lepra. Her love of history is found in her non-fiction works Oil under Sherwood Forest; The Clumber Love Story; and The Hardwick Love Story (about Lady Arbella Stuart). Her passion for all the diversions the local English countryside has to offer is creatively woven throughout her travel blog, and her tourist booklets for historical locations such as Thorsby Hall and Elvaston Castle: "I live in the heart of England near the very famous Sherwood forest – the hiding place of Robin Hood. I love going out and about, so my heavily illustrated, detailed blog describes the places I've visited and what I thought about them. It's ideal for people planning a visit, armchair travellers, or Anglophiles living abroad." Her charitable interests include working with Lepra (that compelled her to write Every 4 Minutes, which is how often someone is diagnosed with leprosy), and Tools with a Mission that started when a Baptist minister realised the things people throw away could change people's lives. Her Healing Hands volunteer service provides tools, techniques and distant healing for people no matter where they're located, which was the genesis for her book, "THE POWER OF DISTANT HEALING." For more information about her promotional and travel writing, her charitable works and any questions you may have about the information above, you can contact her via: [e-mail] Blog: http://nottinghamshirenotes.blogspot.com Tools with a Mission: www.twam.co.uk Lepra: http://soonoutthere.blogspoot.co.uk/2011/10/every-4-minutes-e-book.html

Book preview

Seven Thin Dimes

––––––––

A Memoir

by

Janet Roberts

––––––––

This is a work of non-fiction. All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Copyright @2016 by Janet Roberts

Cover design and illustration by Svetlana Dragicevic

Author photograph by Ruby Rideout

ISBN: 978-0-9973896-5-4 (Print)

ISBN: 978-0-9973896-3-0 (EPUB)

ISBN: 978-0-9973896-4-7 (MOBI)

To my cousins and brothers:

Connie,

Greg, Russ, Bob, Roy, Dale, Jim,

Jill, Mike, Doug, Dana, Rob & Kevin

Table of Contents

In My Grandmother’s House

Seven Thin Dimes

Sweet Chariot

The Prayer

Reuse, Recycle, Remember

The Heritage of Women

Within a Twist of Floss

The Dead Girl

Baking Bread

Aunt Marty’s House

Greg

Acknowledgements

About the Author

In My Grandmother’s House

When I am in a gray period of my life and inner peace hides amidst the foggy tendrils of my existence, I reach within myself for the basis of all that I am, the point where I start.

Inevitably, I find myself floating back in time, eyes closed, picking through the happiest of memories until I return to 109 Liberty Street in the tiny town of McDonald, Pennsylvania. Many of the streets are still made of brick, and I can see Bess ’n’ Babe’s penny candy store from the porch swing there. Always, in this memory, the screen door slams behind me as I step inside, moving on to the kitchen, the heart of the house—the house which, for most of my life, belonged to Esther Jiannino Masquelier, my grandmother.

In my memory, I’m seated at the yellow, Formica-topped table there, happily swinging my feet in anticipation. Tap, tap, tap go my red Keds, one against the other, providing a gentle cadence as I watch my grandmother move through the kitchen like the great mother ship of my being. Beyond the side windows, one to the left and the other to the right of the refrigerator, I can see Mrs. Dickenson next door, calling her four children in from the yard where they are playing.

Rows of the African violets my grandmother is famous for growing gently bent forward like beautiful, velvety dancers, gathering indirect sunlight from the back window, rippling slightly when a breeze passes over their soft leaves. Grandma says the window just provides good lighting, but my aunts say she has a magical touch. The delicate plants are hard to cultivate, and no one can grow them quite like my grandmother. I eagerly wait each year to see which will have white and which will have purple flowers. Half-hidden in the farthest corner of this room sits an ancient portable pantry with a clear glass lid. I know at least three pies, two cakes and pain depis—a Belgian dark molasses coffee bread filled with raisins and nuts whose recipe had