There are two stories about me for which I have no original recollection. These were told to guests, and I remember them on that basis.
One: In this I was an infant, and on this particular day, the story goes, I was sitting in a highchair in the kitchen. My eldest sister Frances came into the kitchen on her way to the pantry, and noted that I was eating an apple. On her way out, she looked at me and saw that my face was greasy. A greasy apple? I was eating a cube of butter.
Two: I must have been a bit older because I was talking. Seems my Uncle Joe and Aunt Jeanette had come to visit. The story says I was sitting on my aunt's lap. I do remember not particularly liking her because she was homely as a mud fence, and she said things that apparently made no sense to me. This last is demonstrated by the following exchange:
Aunt: "Would you like to come home with me?" (Oh, I was a sweet child, they say.)
Me: (Remember, I was small enough to sit on a lap)." Don't be absurd."
Now this story I sort of remember. And I can pin the date within a day or so. I think it was June 29, 1936. I say that because my nephew Jack was born on June 28, 1936. I was six years old.
"Donald, you're an uncle"
Me: "I can't be. I'm not old enough." To me an uncle was someone with a long beard. I wasn't even close to shaving, yet.
Humor time --