The adults we met in Wenonah were very helpful and friendly.
Some of the kids were otherwise. One of the very first to stop by out front was (as I later learned) Tommy Jenkins. My little brother, Roger, and I were out front of the house. Tommy was on his bike and stopped in the street and sat on his bike. Tommy asked what our names were. Then he called Roger over to him and whispered something in his ear.
Roger was only two years old but he was a good size for his age and pretty strong. He walked straight over to me and punched me in the mouth hard enough to make my lip bleed! I asked him why he did that and he pointed at Tommy who was on his bike and riding away laughing at the moment.
Fortunately not all kids in Wenonah were as treacherous as Tommy.
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Bob, I very much doubt you will remember me but I've come to your blog via a very circuitous route started by my sister Mary who found Jack Wiler's blogs and the unfortunate discovery that he died in October. I was Helen Plant back then. Debbie was my best friend and I see you've a link to her Flickr site. I will try to track her down, too. I've lived in Britain for the last 30+years, Scotland for the last 14. These memories of Wenonah are incredibly evocative. I took my husband and kids there last year and it was like going back in a time machine. It would be wonderful to hear from you. Cheers,
Helen Pratt
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