I don’t remember the ride home from the hospital after I was born but my old birth certificate reads: Birthplace - Woodstock General Hospital. September 18, 1949. Canada.
[I was given this bracelet at Woodstock General so I wouldn't get mixed up with the Garrison twins]
My mother later told me that I was born on a Sunday, weighed over 8 pounds (still do) and was called Gorgeous George by the nurses (not any more) because I had a healthy head of thick hair (gone).
Once Mom, Dad and I got back to the house in Burgessville I was introduced to two older sisters and sent to my room. I was fed on a regular basis and developed a taste for homemade desserts after being fed mud pies by one of the girls.
At breakfast one morning I discovered I was rather witty.
“Eat your crusts,” I was told by Mother. “There are children in India who don’t even have that much.”
“If the children in India like crusts they can have them,” I replied cheerfully, and pushed them in her direction.
I was again sent to my room.
So I went to my blackboard and drew a picture of an Indian. As I recall it was almost an exact likeness to one on the back of a nickel. I was quite impressed.
My mother was also a talented artist and entered contests, a few of which she won. Our first TV was a prize Mother won by drawing the Blue Bonnet margarine girl. I saw her original picture and noticed it was much more detailed than my Indian. I worked hard to improve my artistic ability.
And I think I’m getting better.
[Read about the recent running exploits of The Crock at Four Mugs and a Crock]
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