JUDY
When I was 11 years old and living in the Philippines, I was playing outside one day when I saw my father walking up our driveway with a little furry animal clinging to his arm. A monkey, for me! I was thrilled. I named her Judy, the same name my father had given his monkey when he was a boy. How I loved her! Judy would run around the yard following me as I played with my friends. She would sleep with me at night, at least until my mother put a stop to that. When Judy was killed by a dog, I was devastated. As I moped around, my mother said, “Why don’t you write about your life with Judy?” And so I did: my first memoir.
Here is the final unedited paragraph of my six-page story written in July 1954 when I was 12, at the end of our year in the Philippines.
“Then one morning, I had just woken up, and Teresita came into my room and said, “Patty, what’s wrong with Judy?” Teresita had a real scared look on her face, so I quickly got up and ran to the window. There was Judy lying face down on the ground. I ran to mommy (Daddy wasn’t home) and cried, “Mommy, something happened to Judy!” Mommy got up and went outside with me. There was Judy lying face-down in the dirt. Her tail was bloody and there were teeth marks of a dog. I softly called “Judy,” there was no response. She was dead. Kathy went to get a shovel from the neighbors. When she came back, Mommy took the shovel and started digging, then Luyo (our gardener) said, “I’ll be the one, mum,” so mommy gave him the shovel and he dug the grave. When he finished, mom took one of my old dresses, that was too small, and picked Judy up and put her in her grave. Then Luyo covered her up.”
BAREFOOT
As a child, I loved summertime. I could run and play outside, and I didn’t have to wear shoes. My feet were free! I loved the feel of soft wet grass, dusty paths, pebbles and rocks in our backyard, and even paved roads that were so hot I’d have to hop to keep from burning the soles of my feet. But after a few months would come August and my mother would say, “It’s time to buy your new shoes for school. And you’ll have to wear them for at least a few hours a day to break them in before September.” That was the worst part: those leather shoes never felt good. My feet would have blisters for weeks, until the shoes and I softened a bit, and got used to each other.