The question is so simplistic and the answer is somewhat involved. One day I was a child and the next day I asked, “How did I get to be the old one?” Growing up I knew my great grandfather on my mother’s side of the family, both of my great grandparents on my father’s side, grandparents, great uncles and aunts, uncles and aunts and numerous cousins. We weren’t necessarily a large family, but we were big enough where I had a difficult time remembering names and relations.
Unfortunately, I was an only child. For those of you who had siblings, that statement alone most likely causes pause to fantasize about not sharing toys, clothes, bedrooms and, most importantly, affection from parents and family members. However, from my perspective, it would have been heaven sent if there were brothers or sisters to share the spotlight with.
“We’re going with your grandmother to visit Aunt Flossy and Uncle Jim, honey, so hurry up and get ready,” would be my mother’s command. “Let’s get going, your grandmother and I are going shopping,” which, at times, involved me sitting there like a boy in detention, while the two ladies I loved most were busily being fitted for brassieres. “Oh please don’t let any of my schoolmates see me here,” would be the screaming voice in my head.
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