My earliest recollection is a lesson learned when I lived in Livermore Falls. After a back injury in 1929, my father stopped working for Uncle Lon and became an agent for Metropolitan Insurance Company in Livermore Falls. He rented a duplex apartment from Mr. Taglianti, who lived in the other side of the house. Mother had a new baby, Shirley, born May 18, 1929, so had less time to spend with me. One day, I walked around outside the house and saw Mr. Taglianti’s garden with vines full of tomatoes. I picked a large red one for my mother so she would notice me. When I proudly presented it to her, I didn’t get the reaction I expected. She took it from me, frowned, and asked, “Where did you get this?”
“I picked it. It’s for you.”
She put it on the shelf and seemed angry as she said, “They don’t belong to you. You mustn’t take things that don’t belong to you. I’ll leave it here until your father comes home. Go play in the sand box. I have to change the baby.”
I didn’t understand. I thought she would be pleased. My father would tell me when he got home. I tried to think of some other way to get my mother’s attention.
When my father came home, Mama talked with him, and then he talked with me, “Dewey. We don’t take things that don’t belong to us. That is stealing. We have to give this tomato back to Mr. Taglianti. You carry it carefully and come with me.”
“I gave it to Mama. I don’t want to give it to Mr. Taglianti.”
“It isn’t yours to give. It belongs to Mr. Taglianti. Now carry it carefully. He is in the garden now. I saw him when I came home.”