…I mean really, do I look like these people?
Yes, yes I do. It’s a scary thing.
I’m the one on Mama’s lap, looking lovingly up at her, wondering , “got milk?”
I was a different child, and probably a difficult one as well. Mother, who I may have mentioned is a saint, would never let on that I was a “handful”. But I was.
I was number four of five. The picture above does not include my younger brother as he had “not come across the water yet”. Mom’s 1950’s term for delivery. Birthin’ wasn’t really talked about a whole lot. If you asked a question, you got a direct answer, but it really wasn’t dinner table topic material. When someone in the little town(s) where we lived all my life was expecting, she was “PG”. I don’t think I heard the word pregnant until I was probably ten. But, after all Lucy and Desi couldn’t say it on TV either (trivia note, Lucy was the first pregnant woman to be show on national TV…but she could not say the word), so Mother didn’t say it much either.
I was born in 1952, Harry Truman was still in the White House, the boys were still in Korea, and God was still in the schools. Times were different. We never heard anything about “switched at birth”. That didn’t come up until the 80s or 90s in Florida when all youknowwhat broke lose and the baby swap case down around Tampa and Arcadia.
But it got me to thinkin’…
Which is usually dangerous.
Was I switched at birth.
Really, I was not athletic like my brothers; Charlie played all kinds of ball, Al was a basket ball star in HS and was the Basketball Homecoming King his senior year. I liked to hang in the kitchen with Mother. Actually, I liked adults (future post…hmmmmmm!). I think was just a smart kid, and all the little kid things bored me. Well, I like to think that. I mean, they hunted and fished, I stayed in and read. Sometimes I think I was just wierd, and sometimes I wonder, was I switched at birth?
If they wanted ice cream, I wanted pizza. If they wanted baseball, I wanted football, if they wanted Ed Sullivan (google him if you don’t know who he is), I wanted “You Were There”. They wanted Indy, I wanted NASCAR! I mean really, how could we be so different?
My sister, Zola, once said, “Nothing was ever good enough for you.”
It got me to thinkin’. Again, dangerous. Was I selfish, ungrateful, did I have better taste than they (well DUH!!), or, was I switched at birth. (My dad said when I asked him about this “…you just saw opportunities for improvement and were never shy about expressing them.” Quite the diplomat..shoulda’ been at the UN, so I’m thinking the ungrateful thing might come into play.)
I used to say, “when we were kids I felt like we were all sitting on a bench and everyone was looking West but me, I was looking East, or in every direction.
Again, switched at birth.
My theory is that I was born to a really wealthy family, you know, the ones with pools, mansions, money, facelifts, all that stuff. But good old Doctor McClung sent me home with this bunch!
There were three boys born in the same hospital that day. Two were twins, one was me. I know that lowers the odds. I mean, really, Mother would remember having twins and leaving one at the hospital.
But still, I just keep wonderin’…