Like any other septuagenarian, my life has had both sad and happy moments. I try to concentrate on the latter. And, I know, I have been so very, very fortunate.
Undoubtedly the happiest moment of my life was when my son was born. Oh, the unmitigated happiness I felt! I just couldn’t believe it. And oh how ignorant I was. I worried – and related this worry to the nurse who cared for me – that I wouldn’t know when he was hungry. How she smiled. How wrong I was. Todd let me know, in no uncertain cries, when he was wet, when he was hungry, when he wanted to be picked up, when he wanted to be put down – and just about everything else. Yes, he was a colicky baby. For about three months I tried everything – put his pumpkin seat on a dryer that was in use, put him in his car seat and drove, and drove, and . . . . At the end of about three months an angel emerged, a golden-haired, curly-headed angel. He has been a blessing amongst so many blessings of which I’ve been a recipient. And now, he has two children of his own. So the happy moments just keep multiplying.