As Jonathan Pride, a political science major and English minor, was assuming his duties as an editor for Work Sighted (see story on page sixteen), he glanced at the last page of the November/December issue, pointed to the “Spot the Professor photo, and correctly identified Linda Karch as the girl who stood in the back row, second from the right. Karch, professor of English, congratulates Pride for providing the right answer. As a result, he won a $20 gift certificate to Bear Pond Books in Montpelier.
Playing Without Boundaries or Curfews in the Heartland —The Story Behind the Photo
by Linda Karch
My mother took this picture at my two sisters’ October birthday party. Dianne was eight and Jonna was four that year. For days and days, Jonna had been asking, “when am I going to be knocked over?” She did not understand the word “October.”
My sisters and I were usually dressed alike, but never in jeans, and we were famous for our almost white blond hair. Someone was always commenting about it and patting us on the head. I played with these neighbor children every day after school. In the back row left to right are Gracie Bogardus, who had six sisters, Amy Lovett, who was an only child, Jimmy Edwards, whose sister Martha is in the front, second from the left. Jimmy was our only boy, so he always had to play the father in our game of “House.” On the back right, is one of the seven Kreigler girls and her two little sisters are in the front row on the far right. Also in the front row, far left is Judy Tayor who was the only child in the richest family on East Julia Street in Clinton, Illinois.
We played many games, like “Duck, Duck, Goose,” “Red Rover, Red Rover,” and of course, the favorite, “Hide and Seek.” Our home base was the huge maple tree on the corner, next to the street light. That was our after dark game and we roamed all over our block, in the yards of the eight houses and the big cornfield, but we had no real boundaries and no curfew. We were free to play until one of the mothers would either ring a bell or sound a whistle.
One time I covered Judy’s face with bright red lipstick; another time, I chased her home, crying, crying to her mother who came flying out of the house. She grabbed me, shook me, and said that since I was the oldest, I should set an example and behave myself; these words fell on deaf ears.
On rainy or cold days, we played in my grandmother’s dining room. We had a podium, so I would line up all the chairs for schoolroom. We had to have a teacher, so guess who that was. These children on East Julia Street were my best friends from age six to sixteen. Only my sisters know I teach at Norwich.
