The other Sunday Mabel and I went to Yerba Buena Park and I had a cold coffee drink and she played with leaves in the grass as she loves to do. There was a free musical performance of selections from the opera Rigoletto going on and we both quite enjoyed that. Mabel was wearing a tiny red and white checked shirt that was, rather amazingly, mine when I was a baby--saved in a box by my own mother for thirty-five years until it was time for it to come out and be worn by the next generation. When I was small and wore this shirt my parents called me "Little Checkerette" and had a song they sang to me about it (of course, now, I know all about that, having made up many many songs for and about Mabel in the past year). Whether I actually remember the Little Checkerette song from my infancy, or whether I've just heard about it subsequently and am projecting it backwards is debatable. But either way it is a sweet thing.
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