DIGGING THROUGH THE PAST

12/06/50

Billy isn't the good baby he was. His formula wasn't strong enough so he was constipated and upset all the time...Dr. said to increase the formula and put two tablespoons of Karo syrup in it, so I did. It's agreeing much better with him and he's not constipated any more.

Thus began one of the initial entries in little Billy's (mine) official Better Homes And Gardens baby book circa 1950. Thank god for mom and Dr. McGlaughlin...I never did like feeling constipated.

There I was, down in the crowded confines of the basement portion of the addition we had added on to our house, searching through cartons of old books, shoeboxes of thirty year old photos and other long lost memorabilia accumulated through a lifetime of hoarding. Nothing is more difficult to let go of than the past.

My cousin had asked me if by chance I might have any old photos of herself and her siblings. It seems their mom didn't take too many pictures of the kids, especially the ones who arrived later on in life, a common fate for those children who peruse the family picture albums. The first born has thousands of artifacts. The last, a few snapshots, perhaps one of him squirming while unwillingly sitting on his older brother's lap.

I came across treasures like my daughter's collection of newspaper articles she had written while in college, long forgotten trophies I had won from dozens of running races, and of course - thousands of photos, none of which were the ones I was searching for. It was while looking through the last container that I stumbled across the "mother"lode (pardon the pun); my baby book.

All the doubts I ever had about my mom's ability to love me unconditionally began to vanish as I gently placed the stained and weathered volume on my upstairs desk and began to slowly page through it's contents. My life's history from prenatal to six years offered itself through the eyes of my at that time, twenty seven year old mother. It seemed incredible to me that she had ever been that young.

6/20/55

Have you grown up since I first started writing in this book! You're almost five years old now and you're a nice little boy. You're my "little boy". That means you're still "baby" enough to like me better than dad - for a year or so anyway. Tonight while you were laying on the couch with your head in my lap, you looked up at me and said, "I love you, mom". And I said to you, "I love you too, honey". Sometimes I wish I could put into words just how much I do love you Bill. There just aren't enough words to say it.

My eyes were watering more than just a little as I looked through the books photographs, journal entries and especially after turning one well-worn page and finding a small white envelope bearing mom's hand written words, "Billy...10 mos - Hair". Carefully, I opened it.

If there is any more wonderful feeling than the soft texture of a baby's locks, I truly don't know what it is. My long lost hair was no exception. Gently, I picked out the small bunch of brownish blonde fuzz and held it to my nose, half expecting to experience the delightful fragrance of Johnson and Johnson baby shampoo, a smell I had always cherished when my own babies were tiny. Alas, there was none other than in my mind.

As I am finishing writing this entry of my own, the baby book is cradled across my lap and opened to the last page. I have made myself a vow as I am looking at it: Whenever I have the tendancy to look back on my life with too much bitterness over the bad times I went through with my mom, I will simply open her loving documentary to the last page;

You're a very sweet baby, darling - stay that way. Be clean in mind and body, be true to yourself and love God. Daddy and I will help you as we're helping your older brother Rob. Love, Mommy

I love you too, Mom and I'm really glad that I redicovered that fact on my way to looking for other things.

lliB