According to legend;
When I was baby I refused to crawl on the grass. I would only crawl on hard surfaces. Every time someone would put me down on the grass I would scream bloody murder. I am still not too thrilled with walking barefoot through the backyard.
Whenever I would get an ice cream cone I would turn it upside down and let the ice cream fall to the ground then pick it up place it back on the cone and eat it. Perhaps this was an early warning sign for my eventual lactose intolerance.
When playing with my cars and trucks I would not make the normal engine sounds – I would say car car car or truck truck truck while pushing them around the room. Even then words were important to me.
I used to suck my thumb so hard it would get infected. We used to have to wrap my thumb in gauze soaked in salt water and keep my hand wrapped in a plastic bag. After a few of these experiences I must have decided that thumb sucking was going to get in the way of my hand modeling career so I stopped.
I would bang my head along the foot of my parent’s bed until I found the right spot and then just bang away. This could explain things.
When I was born and placed in my mother’s arms I was covered from head to toe in red hair. My mother was horrified and told the nurse I was too ugly and to take me away. Later when the hair fell off everything was OK. What really cracks me up about this story is that I actually know it.
I carried a blue blanket with me wherever I went. I used to rub the blanket on my cheek as I sucked my thumb.
I used to love cooking shows and would bring out all of my mother’s pots and pans and watch Graham Kerr in the TV room.
When Walter Cronkite broke the news that JFK had been assassinated my mother was crying so hard that I grabbed a dish towel because I thought the Kleenex would not be sturdy enough.
I hated soda and would complain that it burned my nose. Yoo-hoo was my drink of choice.
We were only allowed one meal we would not eat. My parents were not running a restaurant after all. Mine was fish, so when we had fish for dinner my mother made something else for me. It turns out it was not the fish I hated but the tartar sauce that my parents used to try to kill the taste of the fish for me.
My mother was a room mother at Traill Green School in Easton. She was supporting a party for my sister’s third grade glass and left me with the kindergarten class while she served cupcakes. A kindergartener was sent to fetch my mother because I would not stop crying. When my mother came down to see what was wrong I told her that a bird had flown in the window and pecked me in the eye.
Every time I stuttered my second grade teacher would hit me on the back of the head with her teacher’s manual. I would come home with headaches all the time and when I finally told my parents what was happening they sprung into action. The teacher retired at the end of the school year. My parents would stop at nothing to protect their children.
Note: Traill Green (1813-1897) was the first President of the American Academy of Medicine and a chemistry professor at Lafayette College, a one cent stamp was issued in 1916 in his honor, a statue of him stands in Easton Heights Cemetery. The school named after him is now a condo on the corner 13th and Washington Streets in Easton.