They Say You're Never Too Old .....

My grandmother* was born in 1907 and my grandfather in 1904.  That means when I was born (1957) they were, respectively, 50 and 53 years of age.

 

(*Throughout these musings, I will refer to them as my grandparents.  Even though they legally adopted me and were, therefore, my parents [for a while, at least], the story just gets too confusing if I call them that.)

 

These photos were taken in 1960, but my grandparents really didn't change much during the time I lived with them.

 

My grandfather had his hair cut in a "flat top" when he was in his 40's or so, and didn't waver from that style to the day he died.  I used to love running my hand over his hair -- it was so soft and tickly.

I was trying to smile, but the sun was in my eyes.

And in THIS corner .....

Back in the day, it was commonly assumed that babies are born as "blank slates" -- tabula rasa.  Their personalities would develop solely based on how they were raised, with no input from biology.  Some people still promote this idea today, but in general it's understood that we are all a product of both nature AND nurture.

"Tabula Rasa", the blank slate

 

My brother, adopted at 10 weeks of age, was certainly viewed as a blank slate, to be molded into his new father's image of a perfect child. It's less clear what my grandparents believed about me, since I was already 16 months old.  But I have no doubt that they were certain that their excellent child-rearing skills would overcome all.

What's in a name?

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet."
William Shakespeare, Romeo & Juliet


What's in a name?  Quite a bit, as it turns out.

Recall this, from an earlier post:

The birth notice my parents mailed to my Great-Grandmother

At birth, my parents chose the name "Sharon Kay" for me, and for the first 16 months of my life my mother called me "Sharon."

 

I think most reasonable people would agree that 16 months is long enough for a child to become accustomed to and associate him/herself with a name.  Right?

Right!

New beginnings .....

So, mom just has the twins to care for now.  My younger brother has gone off to live with a successful attorney and his wife in a lovely suburban home.  I'm taken in by my grandparents, with implicit promises of a better life and major spoiling.

"And they all lived happily ever after!"

Right?

Whoooooa there, pardner!  Not so fast ......

Six minus one equals three .....

No, that's not an example of the "New Math" we were subject to the 1960's.  I'll explain .....

 

Some time after my mother's visit home in early 1958, the decision was made that adoption was the appropriate choice for my younger brother and I.  So, with the departure of our father, my family of six became a family of three (that no longer included me).

This is the last time my mother would hold me in her arms:

My older sister looks very apprehensive. 
Was she afraid these people were going to take her away, too?