Now you know the story of how I started peeking.

Well, that wasn’t the only time I did a little peeking.

Life in Reverse: Peeking into my Early Years Part 2I suppose I would have been about the same age as my  experience peeking down the knothole.

Probably around 4 years old. It was New Year’s Eve. The neighbors, at least some of them, usually came to our house for a party. Not a rowdy party, mind you. Most of the neighbors were older people. My dad was by then nearing his mid-forties, my mother just past the middle thirties.

Of course, I was too young to stay up for the party. But that night I couldn’t get to sleep. I wanted to be a part of the fun. So I took to peeking again. This time the hole was much larger. This was where a stovepipe used to be to help heat the second floor of our house. I guess that was when we used the wood stove in the kitchen. By then we heated with an acme stove in the living room.  But there was that hole, just made for peeking, one that I could actually see through.

Whenever my mother came into the kitchen, just below my peeking place, I would whisper, “Mommy!” Naturally she couldn’t hear me. But I was afraid to speak any louder. I have no idea why. I just kept peeking down that hole and hoping.

Finally, well past midnight, everyone had gone home. It was then that my mother discovered my peeking. It was then, too, that I discovered that she would have let me come down, at least for awhile, had she known I was there. Too late! The party was over. Again my peeking had done me no good. The knothole was full of darkness; the stovepipe hole was full of light. But my peeking was a failure in both cases. I wonder if there’s a lesson to be learned here? 🙂

Please stay tuned for my next adventure in peeking. I was a little older then, but probably not much wiser. Watch for “Life in Reverse: Peeking into my Early Years – Part 3”

I hope you have enjoyed my musings. I do appreciate your visit and I hope you will leave a comment below. Do drop by again. And if you have a few minutes, please visit my other site. Have a super week.



Well, now that you have read (at least, I hope you have) the “About Me” section, I thought I would do a series of posts to relate some of my memories from my past. They may entertain you a little, and I hope some of them will bring you a smile.

Peeking into my early life.

This is going to take some serious remembering.

So, where do I start? I grew up–until I was half-way between 7 and 8 years old–on Victoria Street in Brantford Ontario.This is where I got my start peeking into my past.

Life in Reverse: Glimpses into my Early LifePeeking. Yes, it all started when I dropped one of my mother’s earrings. One of those screw-on earrings from sixty or more years ago. I didn’t just drop it anywhere. It went straight through a small hole in the floor of the upstairs bedroom.

That room always fascinated me. There was a small closet where my mother stored a pool table that belonged to my uncle. There were other things in what was really more of a cubbyhole than a closet. I don’t remember the specifics now, except for some part rolls of old wallpaper, but I loved it when my mother opened that door.

Well, the peeking, as I already said, started in this room. After I dropped that earring down the hole, I was drawn back time and time again to look into the blackness of that hole. Of course, you cannot possible see through a little knothole into the spaces between floors, but as a small child I didn’t reason that way. I wanted to find the earring.

I suppose I felt guilty. It’s not that it was an expensive piece of jewellery, or that my mother couldn’t get along without it. Actually she was allergic to metal and seldom wore jewellery of any kind other than her engagement and wedding rings and the occasional necklace if it didn’t have a metal hook.

So I peeked. And I peeked. Eventually we moved to another house, but the earring was not forgotten. For many years I kept the other half of the pair. In later years I put it on a chain and wore it as a necklace.

I had hoped to take a picture of it, but now it seems to have vanished and I have no recollection of disposing of it. So now the mate to the lost earring is lost also. I will always wonder about its fate. Maybe that’s a fitting end for that pair of amber teardrop earrings.

I hope you enjoyed my little story. I’m so glad you dropped by. I would really appreciate it if you would leave a comment in the box below. Thank you. Please come back again to see what’s new on my newest web site and blog.