Maxie and Rebecca would mark themselves as perfectly average. They had lived through the depression, they had lived through World War II. She had worked in a factory and he had fought for his country.
They had enjoyed the fabulous fifties with a car and a television and going on vacation and having two children.
Maxie went to work, came home, kissed his wife, greeted his kids. They sat down for dinner, then after, would watch television.
Maxie and Rebecca went out on Friday night with their friends, and Rebecca’s mother would babysit. When she died, Miriam was fourteen, so there was no need to hire a baby sitter when they went out.
And such was their life.
A perfectly average life.