Date:         Sat, 12 Apr 1997 11:44:47 -0500
From: Roz Shoshonna <mandypup@IX.NETCOM.COM>
Subject:      Re: Roz'   BIO

@@ %   @@ %  <...here's mud in your eye - i wonder what that means

Dear Friends,

    Possibly I am the only list member who never submitted a Bio.
I just never did it because I so much more enjoy reading what others
have to say than to talk about myself - but after hearing so much
about the tragic childhoods so many of my list friends had to endure
I would like to tell you about my childhood.

    For a few moments then, put yourself in my place and enjoy my
childhood.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

        Both of my parents were writers.  My mother was European
    born and came from a large family.  The middle child, her
    brother, was a writer and saw the latent talent in his kid
    sister Seretta and coached her into developing her skills.
    Mom became a writer, not as prolific as my uncle, being
    a woman was a drawback, but having a brother to assist and
    guide and writing under a mans name gave her a small degree
    of success.  She came to this country just before the war.
    She landed in New York Harbor December 6, 1941.

        My father was a Newspaper editor.  Born in Philadelphia
    but left there to take over the editorship of a smaller PA
    town.  He was not drafted and could not enlist because of
    a slight handicap he suffered during a terrible fire he was
    covering while in Philly.

        Shortly after Dad took over the paper he put an ad in
    for someone to start a literary section in the paper.  The
    fairy tale begins here when Mom answered the ad - I think
    he would have hired her if she were illiterate - it was love
    at first sight - for both of them.

        I came into the picture the first day of March 1947.  My
    three brothers were already in existence, the youngest being
    six years old.

        Mom and Dad being so intelligent and experienced did not
    tell them about the new baby in the usual manner.  They would
    talk casually about THEM having a baby and they would take
    them to visit people who had young babies and marvel at how
    this doll like thing was real and could smile, and 'talk and
    'dance' with its arms and legs.  The boys could hardly wait.

        After I was born the boys loved spending time with me,
    especially the teen-aged Zebulon who loved to take me for a
    walk in the buggy so the pretty girls could flirt with him
    while cooing over me.

        It was in the genes, oh how fortunate we were.  All of
    us could either draw or write and I had two parents and three
    brothers to teach and coach me.

        When I was one I was speaking sentences because no one
    ever spoke baby talk to me.  By three I was drawing pretty
    good and making up little rhymes.  At five I went to a private
    school to hone my skills and try to learn to develop my
    genetic intelligence.

        Dad was making good money those days and I was always
    dressed beautifully but to their humorous dismay I was always
    what they used to call a tomboy.  I was forever exposing my
    lace trimmed panties on the slides and swings and gym rings
    at public playgrounds.

        I loved playing girls baseball.  It was played with a
    large soft ball, mush ball we called it, and I loved swimming
    but my family could never convince me that ice skating was not
    a sit down sport.

        At seven they gave me a "no more baby" party.  I wore a
    daffodil gown and Moms pearls with a beautiful corsage of
    rosebuds.

        At the party I saw my father get raging mad for the first
    time.  A distant relative wanted to show me something and said
    it was upstairs.  I went upstairs with him.  Just as the man
    closed the door it flew open again and my father dashed in,
    grabbed the man by his arm, threw him out of the house and told
    him to never come near his family again.  Dad said he was a
    'pervert'.  Next time I heard about him he was in jail.  I
    asked Dad if the uncle had perverted and after I received the
    affirmative reply I wanted to know if perverting was like
    stealing.

       My childhood was wonderful.  I met many famous people but
    I wasn't aware they were famous and as I look at photos of
    myself and those people I am awed.  I probably had everything
    a young girl could want but it was given to me in a manner in
    which I could not grow up 'spoiled'.

        When I reached my teens and wanted something special I had
    to write a story or an essay that would pass the scrutiny of
    both mom and dad.  I didn't always get what I wanted.  About
    one third of the time I did but I sure learned a lot about
    writing that way.

        I had a wonderful social life after I finished school and
    went to work for a newspaper.  Thanks to inheriting Moms
    beautiful face the date offers were more than I had time for.
    I fell in love about six times before I met 'him'.  I married
    Mr. Perfect and have been blissfully married forty seven years.

        I wish everyone in the world could have a wonderful life.

    roz

    please note:  I am not rereading so please excuse errors
                  thank you    rs