Sometime in the months before I was born, my mom was told that she had a tumor on her ovary and would require surgery to remove it. They conducted what was called then, the rabbit test for pregnancy. It came back negative in that the rabbit lived – how archaic. When they opened my mom up, they found along with a tumor, a baby. No one can explain the negative pregnancy test, but I was determined to arrive in my own time.
My sister wanted a baby sister so much that they had named me Peggy Anne in expectation. Fooled them even then. When one of my parents called my sister, Molly to tell her that I was a boy, she sobbed. To console her, I imagine, mom asked her to name her baby brother. She had a friend from school, or church named James, so that became my name. Sister Molly tells the story much better than I do.
Here is what was going on in 1948;
The pictures of me as a model in a high chair that changed into a rocker and small desk has always brought back one of my first memories. Mom and Dad had a friend that had invented this chair that could convert without taking the child out. I remember having had just about enough of being juggled as they changed the positions and began to cry. The picture of me reaching out was when they held my green frog, that would stick it’s tongue out when squeezed always brought a belly laugh out of me. To get me to stop crying, they held that frog out in front of me and I reached for it. My sister always says that I was a “pretty baby”. I maintained blond hair until about four years old – the curls lasted until late in life.
I remember having the shoes in my possession until a teenager. I guess I thought I would bronze them some day.
