My life, like all stories, has three parts: a Beginning, a Middle, and an End.

EARLY YEARS

I was born in Cleveland, Ohio on May 24, 1935. My father named me Penelope Lee Morrow. But everybody calls me Penny.

A restless candy maker, my father moved from place to place. My four brothers, sister Pat, and I tagged along, with all our dogs, horses, and a pet alligator.

House with the Horse

Florida House

Wherever we lived, my father made taffy. We pulled taffy until it tangled in our hair.

Our dogs wore taffy before long, too. At night we tumbled into bed, dogs included, while my father told us stories. A descendant of the Wyandotte Indians, he knew how to tell a good story. His best one was about falling into a rattle snake pit in Arizona.

My Grandmother with her alligator

Our House in Swarthmore, Pennsylvania

My Parents

Story telling and dancing became my passions.

I went to elementary school in Swarthmore, Pennsylvania. It was a great school, but a long way from our home. We had no school buses, so I walked home. Along the way, I told myself stories. Sometimes the stories were so interesting I did not look where I was going...and walked into trees! On Sundays, my friends and I went to Swarthmore Friend's Meeting, a Quaker church. We had lots of fun. I am still a Quaker.

Little Dancer, Big Dreams

Halloween in my brother Bill's jacket

George School Days

GROWING UP

When I was a sophomore in high school, I went to George School, a Quaker boarding school. Summers were the best. I spent three summers at a wilderness canoeing camp in Canada. The camp had no plumbing or electricity, just adventures. Everyone in our family loves to canoe.

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