One rainy Saturday in Salt Lake City, an adorable baby girl was born at the LDS Hospital. (ME!) The roof was leaking and there were buckets to catch the water. Is it any surprise that my mother had a post-partum infection? She ran high temperatures for several days after I was born. My father had to take care of me when he was home from work. I was such a good baby. I knew my mama was sick, so I didn't cry. I squeaked! By three days, my Daddy had named me Squeaky. I didn't know I had another name until I started school.
I had older brothers and sisters -- plenty of them. But, that's something else. When the older siblings were at school, I had Mama to myself. We enjoyed each other. Mama would sit at her sewing machine -- She made all of our clothes, except socks and drawers. -- I would sit on the floor beside her, playing with Molly B and Pinky Lee -- My doll and monkey -- which I still have.
We listened to KSOP -- The country radio station in Salt Lake. I still love country music because it makes me think of Mama.