One day in October, 1959, Mother announced, "I have a little Indian in me," which was her way of saying she was pregnant. Judy and I were shocked, to say the least, considering her advanced age: thirty-eight. But we were also ecstatic. Our new family was having a baby.
Then seven months later, there I was standing at the big picture window at Community Hospital's nursery looking at the most beautiful baby girl I had ever seen. Mother was right. She did have a little Indian in her.
But the good news was short lived because shortly after my little sister was born, my stepdad, who had a new family, a new home with a big mortgage, and a new baby, was laid off from his factory job.
Oh, no! Would we have to go back to that little house on Rawles Avenue and live with Hazel??
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