Agnes with my two oldest daughters, Dorothy and Karen.

Half-hidden in these purple shadows runs a narrow path. Few know that it exists. Stoop low and follow as it twists and winds and leads us on. Here is a spot where fact and fancy mingle. To linger is not safe. Shall we turn back? Too late! The way is already blocked. Perhaps this pointing sign may lead us out. Its blurred letters read, "To Days Gone By."

The Time, The Place

By: Agnes Steinberg			Page Views: 26
Hashtags: #AgnesSteinberg #Yonkers #NewYork
Chapter 1 of my dead ex-mother-in-law's memoirs.
Estimated reading time: 11 minute(s) (2445 words)

The era in question was somewhere around 1909, the neighborhood, genteel, quiet, middle-class. The street, between Lexington and Third Avenues in the East, was lined entirely with old, high-stooped brownstone private houses and a few new flat-fronted white stone ones.

To Each His Own

By: Agnes Steinberg			Page Views: 28
Hashtags: #AgnesSteinberg #Yonkers #NewYork
Chapter 2 of my dead ex-mother-in-law's memoirs.
Estimated reading time: 19 minute(s) (4372 words)

My grandmother, short and plump, even of disposition and tolerant of nonsense, was our ally and conspirator at times. The sharp emotions of so many years had left her a stability which nothing seemed to move too deeply any more. With easy grace she finished each culinary chore in her domain—the kitchen.

Noel

By: Agnes Steinberg			Page Views: 26
Hashtags: #AgnesSteinberg #Yonkers #NewYork
Chapter 3 of my dead ex-mother-in-law's memoirs.
Estimated reading time: 8 minute(s) (1689 words)

The first warning usually came in the form of a tiny sound breaking in upon the quiet of a gray November afternoon when the family would be engaged in reading the Sunday papers or in taking after-dinner naps. A light tapping on the dining room door—ever so faint—repeated several times, had the effect of an electric current upon all youngsters present. The elder would lay aside the paper, cock aside an ear in that direction, place a finger on lips and nod wisely in confirmation. Of course! It had been Santa Claus listening in outside, having come around for an early check on good and bad children. If the slightest doubt remained, a dash into the outer halls and a futile search through them must convince one that no other than that august presence had been there but a minute before. The wheels had been set in motion, the spell woven.

The Earth Turns

By: Agnes Steinberg			Page Views: 26
Hashtags: #AgnesSteinberg #Yonkers #NewYork
Chapter 4 of my dead ex-mother-in-law's memoirs.
Estimated reading time: 10 minute(s) (2190 words)

After the holidays, winter, bitter cold, sheathed in ice, settled upon us. Before one blanket of snow could be banked at the curb, the wind swirling down from the north buried the city again under fresh layers of white. Men fought the storm with shovel and broom while the soft deluge descended. Children ploughed their way to school waist deep in the drifts.

Gilded Cages

By: Agnes Steinberg			Page Views: 24
Hashtags: #AgnesSteinberg #Yonkers #NewYork
Chapter 5 of my dead ex-mother-in-law's memoirs.
Estimated reading time: 6 minute(s) (1369 words)

On rare occasions, high adventure in the form of a trip downtown beckoned. Dull and drab enough in its way, the day was always to be endured for the sake of its climax. Then, tired after endless hours of shopping, led by the hand, I was conducted into the heart of a large department store and seated upon a chair whose fragile legs of twisted wire seemed to be made of some magical substance. For no sooner had I been seated upon it, drawn a breath and turned to glance around, than all weariness slipped away.

Summer on the Farm

By: Agnes Steinberg			Page Views: 26
Hashtags: #AgnesSteinberg #Yonkers #NewYork
Chapter 6 of my dead ex-mother-in-law's memoirs.
Estimated reading time: 10 minute(s) (2165 words)

Rough and hard might be the hands that set the table; plain and out-of-date, the clothes. The speech was marked by local twang and phrasing. But none surpassed and few could equal hearts like these in warmth and kindliness of feeling. These were the gentlefolk of earth.

Mail Call

By: Agnes Steinberg			Page Views: 38
Hashtags: #AgnesSteinberg #Yonkers #NewYork
Chapter 7 of my dead ex-mother-in-law's memoirs.
Estimated reading time: 9 minute(s) (2031 words)

From our place, the road stretched itself free of the clearing and ran down into the hollow filled with the too-sweet perfume of lilies floating on the waters of Beaver Dam. It cut through the thicket where wild vines of hops and grapes grew lush, and passed the matted hedge of blackberry and raspberry briars beyond which the boys went swimming. Then up a steep hill the road slowly curved and stopped before a black and gold sign which announced with pride that the little store above whose door it hung was the Post Office.