More about Chapter 1- Zina and her Little Book

My grandma, who became grey and shorter as I got older, whose laugh I can still hear when we play cards, who I can still see in my mind's memories when I look at the blanket she made me or when I think of Christmas cookie baking; my grandma once was a twelve year old girl.

How to imagine someone's childhood when decades separate you? This was probably my most favorite process in developing her story. When I started writing, my two youngest were in their early teens, so to imagine my grandma as a friend or cousin to them, having feelings and thoughts about growing up that transcend time; endeared young Zina to me even more.

Of course I had to take some creative licenses to her days; how she spent them and with whom. The genealogical records of birth, marriage, or even census records can never say what colors she loved or what season she looked forward to. So these things I lent her: details from my own childhood and memories my mom and her sister shared of their lives. So Zina journaled on dates that are family birthdays, she looked forward to foods we still make as traditional holiday food, she laughed or marveled at things my grandpa did or said when we were kids, but she experienced them for the first time in the story.

Of course there were details that were indeed real and concrete; things that would have been puzzling to just find as an artifact in a shoe box, (and I did actually find something odd - the amulet from Zina's story - more on that another time) if we did not know some of Zina's story from her own voice.

When I was in college I asked her about her life for a Family and Consumer Studies research paper I was to write. She told me some of her memories, feelings, regrets; I wrote them down then, never knowing how cherished it would be today and always.

One thing Zina told me about was taking a train to school and carrying all of her heavy books. She told me about having to go to school to be a translator. She said she wasn't happy about it. I made sure I included this life detail in her story, as if she was telling me her thoughts when she was going through this time of her life. Of course, the journal itself is fictitious, no such book exists, but I wanted to give young Zina a voice which echoed Grandma Zina's interview for that college paper.

So I dove into the details I knew about. When I looked at a map to see where Lloyd Court in Brooklyn, where they lived, was located in comparison to David Boody Junior High School; I saw they were in walking distance. My mom had this pin from my grandma, so she may have actually graduated from Boody JHS in 1933, or it marked what class she would have been in - the class of 1933 (graduating to HS, this was a middle school). So she must have changed schools at one point. Boody would not have been a train ride away.

But my mom also had this paper. We've probably overlooked it so many times, and its so interesting that my grandma would have kept this; I can't imagine why.

A building still exists on Shermerhorn street, which could have been the same place as this school. I mapped out a train route from her house on Lloyd Court to this building. She had a long trip everyday and I was able to google the transit information and see how long it truly was.

There is no date on this "hall pass," and after I wrote the story I noticed that it does give a clue - Thursday March 16. The year that March 16 falls on a Thursday is 1933. I considered changing the year in the story but that was too complicated for a small detail.

I do think that Zina being in 8th grade in 1933 makes more sense than in 1930. I think she might have only completed the eighth grade, I have to find that information, but it wasn’t important in the story except to say that her parents may have finally heeded her wishes of no longer attending to this school. Perhaps this little pink paper was her last memento of attending a school she didn't wish to.

Creating the story in 1930 was purposeful. I used my memories of Grandpa for this. Grandpa, Frank, did love wordplay, palindromes, puzzles, and any sort of existential mystery. The dates in the year 1930 were full of palindromes so I colored in Zina's journal with dates that would make grandpa smile; as if we were sharing a secret code.

Grandma told me about Frank in the interview, some games they would play like stickball and roller skating. Frank told me about Zina one day after she passed; how beautiful she was and how he loved her his whole life. I built on this foundation and hoped to create a sweet young budding relationship to honor his lifelong feelings.

So this is how Chapter one of my book starts, with a little "more." Thank you for reading!