Spitz

Traditional baby books make adults think they were cute babies. I don't have a traditional baby book. What I have is something better, a far from traditional book we called Spitz. Intended as a diary, the book was bound in a flexible green textured leather. The cream colored pages were smooth to the touch. The month and date were printed on the top of each page in a muted, almost translucent green. The diary had been elegant when new. In Spitz, Mother recorded stuff she thought we'd like to remember about us, our relatives, our friends, and the world at large. The first entry, a quote from Sojourner Truth, set the tone. Speaking before a large crowd, Sojourner had said, "I, like the rest of you, have come to hear what I have to say."

Spitz was our family memoir, our treasure. Whenever it fell apart, Dad fixed it with masking tape. Because Spitz was not a traditional baby book, I don't know whether or not I was a cute baby. I do know that my parents, our relatives, and I were full of quirks. I learned early to relish the quirks. How fortunate for me!