Elaine Klobe
Rosella was like my second mother. I remember happy childhood days spent on the bolstered couches in the den on Forest Hills and in the little sunroom on the side of the house. Rosella coached Nancy and me as we fashioned hand-sewn outfits for our dolls, and she always admired our skills. She taught me how to crochet a chain, although I never advanced much further in that craft. She encouraged us as we created miniature clay-and-cardboard furniture in shoebox houses, and she praised our work. She also made us lie down for a nap, which I resisted and never fell asleep.
Occasionally she sent us to walk to Brownie’s Market to pick up things for her (surely my memory of two small girls going to buy cigarettes without an adult is wrong?) and gave us an extra nickel for a Baby Ruth candy bar. Sometimes she came out to the front porch with us and played “I Spy” with Nancy and me as we watched the cars drive by.
Rosella was an important person in my life and I loved her.