Have you ever seen such a large infant? Yes. That’s me. My story obviously starts with my birth.
1939 was a year that promised some relief from a decade of depression. Yes. Europe was being slowly swept up by the German regime but the small community in southeast Ohio called Gallipolis seemed oblivious to what was happening across the Atlantic. I can guarantee you that my parents were only thinking one thing on May 20– call Dr. Brown. Mother was in labor. There were no Obg doctors. Just a general practitioner who came to the home to deliver the babies.
My mother was not young. She had many miscarriages before my older sister was born. She was small. How did she deliver me who was 11+ pounds without any problems? According to what I was told I actually was an easy birth.
I was named after my father whose name was Harry. I guess in today’s world I would have been called a tomboy because my greatest joy was helping my dad. He called me “Pete!” Later, Mother gave birth to my younger sister. People asked my father if he was sad that he had no son. No. He was just glad for having three active daughters! I have a smile on my face. I was told I was a happy baby.
