•••
Richard Critchfield, Those Days: An American Album. New York: Dell, 1986, pp. 376—
In one corner of the dining room, by the
hot-air register, was a big old Morris chair, where Betty, when she
still worked at the bakery, would sit and fall asleep, she was so tired.
Billy used to say, "Betty's spent half her waking life in a pink
chenille robe." The stairwell to the attic was always loaded with things
left there by somebody intending to take them up later: books, clothes,
tennis rackets, skates, Tinker Toys, little trucks that always seemed
to have a wheel missing. Like the road to hell, the stairs were paved
with good intentions.
