My Memoirs: And I’m Not Even Dead Yet

My Memoirs: And I’m Not Even Dead Yet

[Post 3]

Chapter ONE - The Early Days in Burgessville PT 1

I was born on September 18, 1949 in Woodstock, Ontario, and was pulled out of a very warm place by Doctor Lossing, a masked man with very cold hands.


["Immediately after birth I was rolled to room SR - the Show Room"]

I wailed like any child would in the same circumstances.

My mother later told me I was born on a Sunday and the nurses called me Gorgeous George because of my lovely black hair. Who could blame them. I was a looker.


["Gorgeous George and sister Dale": circa 1950]

My mother, Edith Jane Harrison (nee Catton), and father, Gordon Douglas Harrison, wisely slapped a thick diaper over my hinder parts soon after I was born and called me Gordon Arthur Harrison.

A few years later, after taking time to think about my name, I told my mother I didn’t like it. I can remember she told me why I was called Gordon, she actually tried to reason with me (Was I being unreasonable? Name another 3-year old kid who wants to be called Gordon?), but I can’t honestly remember a thing she said.

I can remember that I continued to complain.

“I don’t like my name. I want to be called something else,” I said.


["My 'baby bracelet'. HARRISON was fine. But GORDON - WWT?"]

Like a wise parent, my mother didn’t go right out and change my name to something I liked better because I probably had something fairly unusual in mind. For example, when my youngest sister Jane Marie was born several years later I suggested that she be called Spooky. Though the name has a certain amount of snap or panache to it, imagine what jane would think of me today had my suggestion ruled the day.

“I’m called Spooky because of you, you idiot,” she’d surely say. “Because of you I only have two friends, Drippy and Sneezy. Why did mother ever take you’re advice?”

I’m glad she didn’t.

I’m also glad I never argued about wearing diapers for the first few years. If somebody has to slap one on me in another thirty years I’ll be ready.

Shortly after I was born my parents drove me to my home in Burgessville, 11 miles south of Woodstock on Highway 59, in an old wreck of a car, maybe a Model A.


["My two hometowns are south of Woodstock on H. 59"]

I was given a room on the main floor and was happy to share it with younger brother Kim Douglas three years later.

I think I wanted him to be called Stinky when he first arrived home. It fit at the time.

***

More exciting adventures will surely follow.

I will honestly attempt to add to my memoirs on a weekly or twice-weekly basis.

Please read the bold Foreword to My Memoirs here.

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