The picture is the first photo of me that is in existence insofar as I know. I’ve mentioned my mother’s mental illness. At one point she burned all the family pictures. Through the years other family members have given me pictures including this one. The note on the back dates it as 1937, so I was somewhere between one and a half two and half years old.
The car is a Model T Ford. I actually remember the car, largely because my pet goat, Nanny, ate the canvass top off of it. We drove around in a convertible for a long time, although there was no top to put up. At one point, a rod went out. Daddy wrapped the crankshaft in a meat skin and drove the car until Sears and Roebuck sent us a replacement rod.
I’m guessing the picture was taken on the Paramour Place where I was born. I used to think it might be neat to have a name for your house. Scarlett O’Hara lived at “Tara.” Well we didn’t actually name the house, but the piece of ground on which you lived was called a “Place.” The name given to it was either the name of the person who owned it (Remember we were sharecroppers), or it was the person who had lived there previously.
I must have been born egocentric. If not that, I really had too much attention focused on me from the start. Daddy bought a battery operated radio, but according to him, I tried to compete with it so much that they finally gave up listening to it. I’ve never been quiet since. I sometimes say I was vaccinated with a phonograph needle at birth.
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