Time to clear the decks...
I guess I just have to try to slam out the stinkin’ thinkin’ that’s been driving me bonkers at 0300 in the mornings. It took 70+ years for me to finally “get it” that mom and pop weren’t what most folks then (and now, I suppose) would consider “normal.” Therefore, having a kid that wasn’t normal was rather expected, I guess. What started this chain of thought was the memory (at age two) of Mom’s going to visit some guy who had the same first name as Pop. He lived on a farm outside of town with his elderly mother. I didn’t realize until some time later that the “visits” were something other than normal, in themselves. Clue number one was that Mom would get under the dashboard of the ‘39 Plymouth and disconnect the odometer (this was in ‘51) when she’d go to visit, and would only go on days that Pop was on the road for work (railroad telegrapher/agent). When we were at the farm, I would be relegated to spending my day with the guy’s mother, who I would today consider ...