Tanta not Tonto... and Uncle Jack (Part I)

Tanta not Tonto... and Uncle Jack (Part I)

Although we were four generations of German Americans in the Thatford Avenue house, our mother- tongue faded with each new child speaking more American English than Deutsch.  The only German I heard was from Grandma Rose's friends who sat on kitchen chairs brought down to the front porch.  There, shaded from the damp July heat, they shucked corn, peeled carrots or shelled summer peas without missing a bit of gossip.  My job was to gather the empty pea pods from the big wooden bowl onto a sheet of newspaper.

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