My Grandma Hodapp lived in a giant colonial-style house that looked out over the park. The inside of the house was formal and stiff; it smelled of rosewater and mothballs. The carpet was powder blue, the banister of the wide staircase gleaming white. The cabinet in the dining room held carefully set pieces of expensive cup-and-saucer sets, pieces of white china so transparently thin they reminded me of ice cubes in milk, and cut crystal wine glasses that hummed if you ran a wet finger around the rims. Everything on the first floor seemed so full of self-importance, so elegant. Everything whispered, "Don't touch."

But there were better places in the house, places full of excitement and mystery, great sources of curiosity for a young girl.

The Attic
The Basement
The Gameroom
The Second Floor
The Sun Porch