On Tuesday, January 21, 2020, 12:52:58 PM MST, Helena Ackley <helenaackley@ymail.com> wrote:
I figured out my age for this last night. Carlton was born 21 months after myself. Mother, as before and after, had nearly died in childbirth, and was in recovery for 6 months. Either grandma was “not on speaking terms” with my parents, or Carlton’s birth was sooner than expected, and he was born at home, not at Grandma’s house. However, he was not premature. A friend / neighbor was asked to take care of Mother, and a Doctor came to the house for the delivery because of her medical history. usually, other women, or a midwife helped with home deliveries. It was as an adult that I heard that she had many stitches both inside and out, for this birth, and he was about 9 pounds.
Auntie Mae. the friend, had several children, but the youngest two, were Eleanor and Beatrice, with whom I was delighted to play, as I was immediately going into the care of the older children at their home.
But, very soon, Auntie Mae refused to take me for care in her home, because of how I talked, because her youngest children were learning it from me. I was not 2 yet, and only knew some words and phrases, and I was very distraught and crying about this. But, my Dad had to take me to stay with Grandma, instead. It appeared then, she too did not like the way I talked. But, she explained it was bad words, and if I would learn not to say those words, she would make me a white pinafore to go with a new dress for Easter.
I did learn and I did get both a new dress and a beautiful white pinafore to go over it. I was delighted, and I had remembered this all my life as wonderful. I had learned many more words and could talk in sentences by the time I went home, 8 or 9 months later, but I was 3 by then. People would shake my hand and really talk to me. Then, in overhearing conversations, I learned why these words had been bad.
I used to sing, Baby is a Sailor boy, and Daddy had been in the Navy. I had picked up some cuss words, and everyone would laugh, Dad, and Mother too, and most other people, but NOT Grandma and Grandpa, or Auntie Mae. But, by the time I came home, on Easter Sunday, both of my parents thanked Grandma, and they all began to be “on speaking terms” again.
It meant a lot to me for people to like how I talked then, and no one laughed at me, either. I have never had cuss words in my language, I say “shoot” sometimes, even “Darn it”. And, it seems no one cusses where I could hear it, to this day. Now, the words are sure different and heard all over.
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