The floor was red linoleum. The walls cream above the molding and red to the floor. There was one window over the table where we ate weekday dinners, where Nanny sat and minced lettuce, carrots and onions on a piece of newspaper before adding mayonnaise... or was it Miracle Whip to make her signature salad. A stranger surprised Nanny at the kitchen door while she held that same knife. Looking right at him, whatever she said made him leave, quickly. The little refrigerator with creamery ice cream in ice cube trays and glass storage bowls with cloth caps. On top sat the radio often playing Just Plain Bill, Ma Perkins or The Romance of Helen Trent. A small trash can with step peddle held a tiny amount of trash and garbage, most of it being cut up for the birds or reused. During heat waves, my mother and her sister dragged their mattress down to the kitchen and slept on the red floor between the open doors of kitchen and living room. A small cool in the Detroit summer of heat. The summer we stayed there, my sister and I sat at the table evenings with Poppy. He drinking a big glass of buttermilk, while we played Sorry! eating Ritz crackers topped with grated cheese. Summer Saturdays after dinner, Nanny and our mothers washed the dishes, a pan of dishwater and one for rinse water, while my sister, cousins and I played in the backyard. Unlike at home, we were never asked to help. Now I know they enjoyed the time together, talking without interruption.