I was born and raised in Topeka, Kansas. My parents bought a three room house on Polk Street before my sister, 18 months my senior, was born. They lived their throughout my childhood, adding on to the house along the way. When we sold it 2005 it was a four bedroom, one bath ranch with an office, laundry room,dining room and "breakfast nook". The quotation marks are because before the late 1990's that nook was our back porch.
Like the house, we all changed through the years. Dad went from working on the machines at the postal annex near our house to writing computer programs to retiring early only to be diagnosed with early onset dementia. Mom went from being a housewife to being a nurse to being overwhelmed by the demands of my father's illness and subsequent absence. My sisters, Nancy, the oldest, and Beth, the one mentioned earlier, grew up to marry brothers and move to the Kansas City area to raise their families. And I, Jill Marie Graham Smith, having no other brother to marry, moved to the Kansas City area also on the day I graduated high school to follow the love of my life. We are all nurses now, each with their own specialty. Our parents are blessed with 11 healthy, relatively happy grandchildren and one spunky great granddaughter.
Some people have memories of a childhood filled with rainbows and sunshine. Others are tortured by abuse, neglect or another type of painful history. I cannot identify any instance of abuse, physical or sexual. My parents were hardworking people that rarely missed a day but who always came home at the same time each day. While mom worked her way through being a nurses' aide, to becoming and LPN to evenutally graduating with her bachelor's of science in nursing by going to school in the evenings, I cannot say she neglected me. My father was a devoted man to his family, the church *after we started going*and the outdoors. But I can tell you when I look back, all of my memories are full of pain and negativity whether it is sadness, worry or regret.
One of my earliest memories is of walking down an aisle to see my grandpa, my dad's dad, laying in a casket. I was three. I remember getting mad at my parents because I wanted to attend the funeral but they felt I didn't really understand what was happening. I couldn't explain to them how I knew that it meant his body no longer worked, but that the best parts of him, his soul, were in heaven now. But I could also never identify when or how I found out what sex was either, that is to be discussed later.
All of my early memories are similar. I remember having a bowel movement as I ran across the street from our neighbor's house. I remember throwing up on the dining room floor.I remember being at preschool, that was held in someone's house, and feeling like everyone was staring at me and that I didn't belong.
The few good memories I have include learning to read as my parents were teaching Beth and a blurry vision of attending a circus.In my memory mom was a chaperone for one of my sisters' class and I got to go along. I can't tell you if the bag of peanuts is real or if I just thought about them so much they became part of the memory. I also can't tell you how I went to kingergarten knowing how to read but crying because I didn't know how to tie my shoes.

I was born and raised in Topeka, Kansas. My parents bought a three room house on Polk Street before my sister, 18 months my senior, was born. They lived their throughout my childhood, adding on to the house along the way. When we sold it 2005 it was a four bedroom, one bath ranch with an office, laundry room,dining room and "breakfast nook". The quotation marks are because before the late 1990's that nook was our back porch.
Like the house, we all changed through the years. Dad went from working on the machines at the postal annex near our house to writing computer programs to retiring early only to be diagnosed with early onset dementia. Mom went from being a housewife to being a nurse to being overwhelmed by the demands of my father's illness and subsequent absence. My sisters, Nancy, the oldest, and Beth, the one mentioned earlier, grew up to marry brothers and move to the Kansas City area to raise their families. And I, Jill Marie Graham Smith, having no other brother to marry, moved to the Kansas City area also on the day I graduated high school to follow the love of my life. We are all nurses now, each with their own specialty. Our parents are blessed with 11 healthy, relatively happy grandchildren and one spunky great granddaughter.
Some people have memories of a childhood filled with rainbows and sunshine. Others are tortured by abuse, neglect or another type of painful history. I cannot identify any instance of abuse, physical or sexual. My parents were hardworking people that rarely missed a day but who always came home at the same time each day. While mom worked her way through being a nurses' aide, to becoming and LPN to evenutally graduating with her bachelor's of science in nursing by going to school in the evenings, I cannot say she neglected me. My father was a devoted man to his family, the church *after we started going*and the outdoors. But I can tell you when I look back, all of my memories are full of pain and negativity whether it is sadness, worry or regret.
One of my earliest memories is of walking down an aisle to see my grandpa, my dad's dad, laying in a casket. I was three. I remember getting mad at my parents because I wanted to attend the funeral but they felt I didn't really understand what was happening. I couldn't explain to them how I knew that it meant his body no longer worked, but that the best parts of him, his soul, were in heaven now. But I could also never identify when or how I found out what sex was either, that is to be discussed later.
All of my early memories are similar. I remember having a bowel movement as I ran across the street from our neighbor's house. I remember throwing up on the dining room floor.I remember being at preschool, that was held in someone's house, and feeling like everyone was staring at me and that I didn't belong.
The few good memories I have include learning to read as my parents were teaching Beth and a blurry vision of attending a circus.In my memory mom was a chaperone for one of my sisters' class and I got to go along. I can't tell you if the bag of peanuts is real or if I just thought about them so much they became part of the memory. I also can't tell you how I went to kingergarten knowing how to read but crying because I didn't know how to tie my shoes.

I was born and raised in Topeka, Kansas. My parents bought a three room house on Polk Street before my sister, 18 months my senior, was born. They lived their throughout my childhood, adding on to the house along the way. When we sold it 2005 it was a four bedroom, one bath ranch with an office, laundry room,dining room and "breakfast nook". The quotation marks are because before the late 1990's that nook was our back porch.
Like the house, we all changed through the years. Dad went from working on the machines at the postal annex near our house to writing computer programs to retiring early only to be diagnosed with early onset dementia. Mom went from being a housewife to being a nurse to being overwhelmed by the demands of my father's illness and subsequent absence. My sisters, Nancy, the oldest, and Beth, the one mentioned earlier, grew up to marry brothers and move to the Kansas City area to raise their families. And I, Jill Marie Graham Smith, having no other brother to marry, moved to the Kansas City area also on the day I graduated high school to follow the love of my life. We are all nurses now, each with their own specialty. Our parents are blessed with 11 healthy, relatively happy grandchildren and one spunky great granddaughter.
Some people have memories of a childhood filled with rainbows and sunshine. Others are tortured by abuse, neglect or another type of painful history. I cannot identify any instance of abuse, physical or sexual. My parents were hardworking people that rarely missed a day but who always came home at the same time each day. While mom worked her way through being a nurses' aide, to becoming and LPN to evenutally graduating with her bachelor's of science in nursing by going to school in the evenings, I cannot say she neglected me. My father was a devoted man to his family, the church *after we started going*and the outdoors. But I can tell you when I look back, all of my memories are full of pain and negativity whether it is sadness, worry or regret.
One of my earliest memories is of walking down an aisle to see my grandpa, my dad's dad, laying in a casket. I was three. I remember getting mad at my parents because I wanted to attend the funeral but they felt I didn't really understand what was happening. I couldn't explain to them how I knew that it meant his body no longer worked, but that the best parts of him, his soul, were in heaven now. But I could also never identify when or how I found out what sex was either, that is to be discussed later.
All of my early memories are similar. I remember having a bowel movement as I ran across the street from our neighbor's house. I remember throwing up on the dining room floor.I remember being at preschool, that was held in someone's house, and feeling like everyone was staring at me and that I didn't belong.
The few good memories I have include learning to read as my parents were teaching Beth and a blurry vision of attending a circus.In my memory mom was a chaperone for one of my sisters' class and I got to go along. I can't tell you if the bag of peanuts is real or if I just thought about them so much they became part of the memory. I also can't tell you how I went to kingergarten knowing how to read but crying because I didn't know how to tie my shoes.