1960-1965

In my first year I went through all the normal things a baby goes through. There are a couple of stories about things that occured between the ages of nine months and 18 months that my family laughed about for years. I call them stories because they were things told to me not things I remember.

For the record it appears that I was walking at nine months and began climbing just as soon as I figured out how to co-ordinate my hands and feet. The first thing my mom always talked about was the board I climbed. It was upright at about a 45% angle holding up our clothes line and it was not more than 3" wide and I climbed that thing all the way to the top then began to holler because I couldn't figure out how to get back down again. Mom always smiled when she told it though I was never sure if it was my courage or my fear that made her smile

Another story they tell is about when and how I began to read. I am not sure how old I was probably still less that a year. The truant officer came to my aunt's house to find out why one of her boys was missing school. He spotted mom and me in the living room. Mom was watching TV and I was lying near her doing what appeared to be reading a newspaper. Turning the pages looking at it and turning the next page. Of course I was too young to know what the words were but I suppose I could have been looking at the pictures. When the truant officer asked mom why she wasn't in school, (she was quite young looking), she pointed to me and apparently both did a double take when they saw what I was doing. It is no wonder with a start that young that when I did learn to read I read without ceasing well into my 20's and continue still to this day to read a fair amount.

There is one other thing that dad spoke about sometimes. I suppose it was quite embarassing to him. He was throwing me up in the air and catching me. In those days when children began to walk they were put into hard white shoes like the one above. I was wearing mine and I guess I got a little excited. I kicked dad with one of them and gave him a black eye. I am not sure how he explained it to the guys he worked with but I'm pretty sure he didn't tell them I gave it to him.

And finally there are the dogs. I guess I was quite a dare devil in those formative years. My dad kept hunting dogs, big strong hounds for the deer hunt. When I began to walk Queenie apparently adopted me. My mom said she always felt comfortable letting me out to play by myself because Queenie and her son King would watch over me and if I headed towards the road or any other dangerous place they would put themselves between me and my target until I gave up. Talk about your useful baby sitters.