Tuesday, January 19, 2010

June 22, 1938

Boy, sure is dark in here, must have slept for a few days. I found my fingers this morning and my toes this afternoon, although I cannot see them. Heard my mother’s voice, she was talking to my grandmother.

Getting to like it in here as I can move some and enjoy the conversation outside. Those Sunday rides are pleasant and I sleep occasionally. When I move my mother puts my father’s hand on her stomach; sure wish that he’d drive with both hands!

The only thing I do not particularly like here is the doctor pushing me around and his cold stethoscope. We went bowling last night and I slept profoundly afterwards. The doctor says that everything is normal here; pickles, ice cream and the odd beer. If that’s normal, fine with me.

Times are rapidly changing. I’m moving and it is not me who is moving me, someone is grabbing my head and pulling …. Lots of lights, hard on the eyes … the calendar on the wall says “June 22, 1938.”

My mother, holding me gives thanks to God for his gift. She turns to me and says,

“I give you life, be kind to it; I shall love you for the rest of my life, please accept it.”

(Contributed by Jim Carten)


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