I lived the first eleven years of my childhood at 922 Ahrens, about a half a block from Rucker Elementary School.
As you can see, I wasn't a very pretty baby. In fact, my dad used to tell me that I was the baby only a mother could love. Of course, my dad was a real jokester, and I knew not to take him too serious. The rolls of fat I carried around kept me from crawling and walking until later than most babies should start doing these things. But when I did become mobile, I immediately became my mothers problem child. (This didn't change for quite some time, as you will find out later) My favorite toy was my raggedy anne doll, my favorite food was strained fruit, my favorite game was "patty cake", and my favorite person was my dad. My mom was the most essential part of my life, and I loved her. But my dad was my playmate, the one who made me laugh.
By the time I was two years old, I learned the art of "CHATTING". I talked incessantly. Mom finally bought me a toy phone so I would think I had someone to talk to, and give her ears a rest. Potty training was the biggest part of my life at this time. I finally figured it out about the time my dad disassembled my baby bed, and my mom put the high chair in storage. Growing up was going to be harder than I thought. I sort of enjoyed being the "baby" of the family, and all the "baby" things were disappearing from my world. So, we started "potty training" all over again.
*Sigh* I finally got it down by my third birthday. And a good thing too.
All my relatives and friends came to see me and celebrate my achievement (or maybe it was for my birthday party, this is a bit unclear). It's ok, because I got a lot of presents. Three years old was a tough time for me. My first "boy friend" lived in the house behind us. But there was a chain link fence between us, so we could only talk and reach through the little openings and hold hands... in other words, I couldn't beat him up on a regular basis. Someone was always nearby when we played together though. I think it was more for the sake of the little boy's safety, and not to make sure he didn't kiss me. 
*Whew* Am I ever glad that my sister came along when she did and told me that "boys" are different than "girls". I was four years old now and had to start thinking about these things. After all, my sister was eight now, and she was so much more knowledgeable than I. I loved my sister. She was the "little lady" of the family. I was the "little tomboy", and she tried so hard to change me. This caused both admiration and conflict between us. You can read all about that in a poem I wrote to her.
Well, to make a long story short, they let me start school, and I even got to stay after school sometimes. I'm not so sure now, but at the time I thought it was because the teacher just liked me. It wasn't until the third grade that I began to wise up.
I started high school as the wall flower of the class. I became painfully shy sometime through the years. I was not very popular during high school, and I did not enjoy school very much. I dated occasionally, and only had a handful of friends.
I graduated those very painful years in 1969 from South Houston High School in Pasadena, Texas.
