People have asked me to write down my life story. It seems to have been rather unique to some. To me, it is just my life, but it may need to be shared. Some wanted me to write a book. I tried to do that, and then my computer crashed, and I lost 7 chapters, so I thought I would do it in blog form, and maybe somebody could one day transfer it to book form. I do not plan to write down everything about me, as that might be boring, so I am just going to write some remembrances and stories about things I did (or may have done). It may not be chronological, or maybe it will. Anyway, here goes:
Today is June 17th. It is my birthday. I was born in 1953 in New Orleans, Louisiana. I don't remember anything of that day, but I have seen pictures, and I know I was loved by my parents and my older brother. My father taught Religious Education at New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary, and my mother was a housewife. I think she worked in the school's library before I was born. She gave that up. We lived on the campus of the school on land that was near a levee and on a reclaimed swamp. When I would come home from nursery school, I would have to pull the green lizards off of the walls inside our house and throw them out of the window. It became something of a sport.
My earliest memory was when I was 2 or 3. We were in Biloxi, MS and staying at a hotel. My father was working in a church there over the summer. A hurricane struck the coast, and we were in the hotel. I remember the water coming into the lobby of the hotel, as we watched from the second floor. My father decided to put us all in the car and take us back to New Orleans. We got about two blocks, and water was over our tires, so he turned around and went back to the hotel. I have been scared of hurricanes after that day.
Mardi Gras was fun. It was when the time was for kids. Now, it is not. Hey, Mister, throw me some beads. My brother saved his beads. I just ate the candy I got.
Once, I was at the grocery store with my Mother. I got lost in the aisles. The aisles were very tall. My Mother was frantic looking for me, and a worker found me and reunited me with her. When we got home, she explained to me that I shouldn't wander off. I also couldn't sit down for a while. My parents liked to paddle. After that, I was next to my Mother in the store, holding onto the hem of her dress.
Also, when I was 3, I had to have a hernia operation. My Mother asked the surgeon if he could remove my appendix too. After the surgery, he told my Mother that he forgot. To this day, I don't know if he really did or not. I don't remember much about that time, except I had to learn to walk again, and I said "Easy does it" a lot, as it was really painful.
One last story for now: My parents were invited to go to a swanky restaurant in the French Quarter. They took me and my brother, and I was put in a high chair. I loved butter patties and ice cubes. As they were eating, I discovered the joy of launching butter patties and ice cubes across the restaurant with my spoon as a catapult. My parents were very embarrassed. They impressed upon me (literally) when we got home that I was never to do that again. I don't care for butter patties now.