Birthday Morning

I come from a family that started in Sioux Falls, SD from the union of a spinster schoolmarm, who was afraid she'd be an old maid, and a divorced manual laborer. They met at a dance and married three months later. Mom and Dad often yelled at each other or didn't talk to each other for long periods of time. Dad worked at Morrell's meat packing plant, and for a short time, mom stayed home with us kids. Mom and Dad slept on a couch in the living room while us three kids slept in the only bedroom in a small house on Rice Street. The little bedroom was right next to the living room so Mom could hear us if we cried in the night. She had migraine headaches a lot, maybe from dealing with three kids under the age of five. Like most families, we had good times and bad times. For me, this was one of the best.

My first memory is of my birthday on June 27, 1950. I slept with my big sister, Kay, who was two years older than I was. She didn't like me much and I tried to stay out of her way. She often tried to kick me out of bed. Mom even put a rolled up blanket between us to keep her from kicking me, but it didn't stop her.

Very early on my birthday, when the outside light was still gray, and the sun was just beginning to slide over the horizon, my mom came to our room and got me from the bed I shared with Kay. She seemed to know that Kay was kicking me again, even though I hadn't complained. The light coming through the shades was golden. She picked me up along with a blanket from the bed and carried me into the bathroom. She laid me down in the bathtub on the blanket and handed me my birthday present. She wished me a happy birthday and then when out of the room. I don't remember Mom ever carrying me again, or even taking me onto her lap for anything. But on that day she did.

That birthday present was the best one I ever got. It was a Disney handkerchief that had red edges and Mickey and Minnie on it. My mouth opened in surprise. As I lay in the cold, hard tub, which was only padded by the thin summer blanket, I smiled and smiled. I rolled the handkerchief around in my fingers, folded and unfolded it, smelled it and rubbed it against my face. The cotton cloth was smooth on my skin and it smelled like it was the day. I was so happy that my mom cared enough to give it to me. I still have it to this day. I keep it in a pink and black cardboard box that was later given to me by my Japanese pen pal. It still makes me smile.