Birth to Five

I was born in El Paso, Texas, possibly at a Military hospital. I was the third and last child, my father had a vasectomy after I was born. According to my Aunt Bonnie, Daddy always wanted a little girl an was thrilled at my birth. More on that idea Later. According to my mother, she never wanted children at all so maybe Dad took care of all of us, but there were old black and white photos of a very happy looking Mom holding each of us after birth. 

Mom wasn't hateful, abusive or mean when we were growing up, she just wasn't there a lot. I remember her laying in bed most days, head covered, feet out. Daddy would tell us that Mama loved us but just didn't/couldn't say it because it was the Japanese way. (I now believe she suffered from severe depression, more on That later.) 

Not long after I was born we moved to Wichita, Ks. which is very close to where Daddy's parents lived in Ark City,  Ks. I know Dad struggled to provide for us. We lived in a relative's basement for a while. I remember being around big, cardboard barrels full of clothes in a basement. I've always said that my Aunt Johnny's funeral when I was 2 1/2 was my first memory, but if the cardboard barrel place was real then I remember even farther back because I've been told we were living in Aunt Johnny's basement. The funeral just stands out because I remember it in detail that startled the adults who attended later. It was the first time I saw someone dead. That would sure stand out! We sat near the middle of the church, Grandma and Granddaddy were back to our left. Those purses with pearl or just gold ball clasps were in style and every time someone spoke or a hymn started to play there was a clicking sound all around as the women opened their purses for tissue. A pretty detailed memory for a 2 year old!!

Next I remember us in our own house. A man came to the door one day with a cardboard box with a black and brown puppy in it and we added Butch to our family. I remember Herbert was playing with Butch, running from him, laughing and looking behind him at Butch when he ran into/thru a glass door. Both Herb's wrists were gashed. He was crying that he was going to die, he somehow knew people slit their wrists to kill themselves, and we were crying, too, because of what he was saying and because there was a LOT of blood. Of course he was taken and stitched up but that trauma is another very clear early memory.  Sad how the bad stuff stands out and my next memory is sad, too. Butch got distemper. I remember Mom trying to get him to take the medicine (which I know now was unlikely to save him) and Butch wouldn't eat it so she fed it to him in Hershey kisses. (Which of course I now know was a Bad Idea!) 

Butch died and we took him to bury him under a tree by Granddaddy's garage. The boys and I were heartbroken and sobbed at his burial, something we would regret for years. Daddy declared that we could never have another pet because we cried so much losing Butch.

I remember Never always meaning Never when Daddy said it.  When I was 5 we went out to eat and I threw up in the restaurant.  Daddy was embarrassed and said he would Never take us out to dinner again and he didn't. 

Our house was on Hill Street and beyond our back yard was the catholic school the boys attended. I got my first bloody nose there. An older, bigger girl tried to pick me up and I didn't want her to, I struggled to get away, and she smacked me in the face for refusing her. Someone carried me home screaming and bleeding. My first lesson that humans can be mean. 

This was Daddy's Catholic phase so we went to church regularly. I've seen the photos of us gussied up for church. Mom and I always wore a hat because that was still Catholic law as well as Latin mass with the priest's back to us. Fish on Fridays and etc.

Enough for now.