My Earliest Memory.
My earliest memory takes me back to 1934. I was four years of age living in a foster home. Home medical treatment was almost the only hope of recovery from any sickness back in those days.
Though I vividly remember having a very bad attack of whooping cough, I don’t recall taking any medicine. The treatment was very basic maybe to the extreme. As soon as dawn broke I was sent outdoors to sit on a wooden box all day long. When the chill of the evening arrived I moved indoors again, finishing up sleeping on the floor with no more a single smelly blanket.
This was the time of the great depression long before the amazing medical treatment that is readily available today. However, I recovered and now at the age of eighty-one, I certainly believe those magic words – ‘When the going gets tough the tough get going.’