November 5, 2012

Donna Cassyd

Donna, (right) with neighborhood friend

At the end of the war, we moved from the Bronx to Los Angeles. My father got here first. He lied and told the army he was from Los Angeles, so he got a free trip. My mother and I came later, arriving with our suitcases at Union Station, me refusing to get off the train because I’d been promised California, and the conductor announced “Los Angeles.” It took a nickel to get me off the train.

Donna and her parents

After staying with relatives, we moved to South L.A. to a bungalow court, and I saw my first flower actually growing in the ground. I was entranced. It was a gardenia. It smelled wonderful. Even today I’m on West 83rd Street, five years old, when I smell a gardenia.

Eventually we moved to a half-built house in Laurel Canyon, and I got a dog which I named “Faithful” and planted a garden. (No dogs nor gardens in the Bronx.)

This is me, with my neighbor Judy holding some of the vegetables from the garden. I don’t remember any bugs or even fertilizer. I just poked seeds in the ground and watered and up came the vegetables. It was lovely.

-Donna Cassyd was a community participant in Cornerstone’s Body of Faith in 2003.