(The first two pages of Big Mama’s Baby Book. She kept meticulous records. I still have boxes of check stubs from 1949 down in the garage at the farm. Photo Socotra).

It is a birthday today- mine, as it happens, along with a few million other residents of the globe. I would be the one living at the corner of 63rd and Bliss Street. It is the anniversary of Big Mama’s first confinement at Mt. Carmel Mercy Hospital in Detroit. It being a first birth, Raven delivered her into the hands of the gowned personnel and went off to the cafeteria to have a piece of apple pie.

He did not have time to finish it before an orderly summoned him to meet me, and congratulate his bride. I know first impressions are always important, but I cannot comment on mine. Big Mama was crisp and efficient as always, and once she got me to nurse properly, we were- as they say- off to the races.

She is very much in my thoughts this morning. For whatever random reason, the Baby Book is in with a couple other photo albums in the bedroom of the apartment. I will only inflict a couple images on you, but the Book is composed of pictures, once a month at the beginning, all black and white, and continuing through age at lengthening intervals, normally around this date each year.

The book includes the arrival of Spike and Anook, both blinking in their early shots. I presume they each have their own books- that would be the only way Big Mama would have done things- and we probably all graduated to the family collections that filled all those color slide carousels.

It was homage to her that I fed them all though the digitizer so that they would not be lost to those of us who survived her. So, while I will probably celebrate later today, I want to raise the coffee cup to Betty who gave me life and nurture, and to Raven, even it he did not get to finish his piece of pie.

I miss them both.

Copyright 2014 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com
Twitter: @jayare303