It was the fifth of October 1946. I was standing on the platform at Donnybrook, clutching the precious gift in my hands. I was nine years old and wearing my new frock made of white mosquito netting.
“We never really knew her,” my cousin said as she stood next to me at the graveside. I remember thinking, “No you didn’t. None of you did. But I knew her. I KNEW HER. And I was not ready for her to go. I had all these plans, all these things I wanted to do with my...
“No! No! No!” everything inside of me screamed. I didn’t want to be there. I didn’t want to be at anymore meetings or corporate lunches. I didn’t want to dress right, carry a calendar the size of a phone book, answer 100 emails and voicemails a day, develop anymore...
Those times were BP, Before Penicillin, and there were a number of serious childhood illnesses, which were expected for most children, like rites of passage. I only know from being told that my first severe illness, which had to have included some pain, was a kidney infection when I was just a baby. I don’t know how this was treated, but the after-effects would follow me into my teens due to my mother’s lifelong concern for my plumbing […]