A Family

When Evan was nine months old, no one had to tell me I was pregnant. Growing up was in segments of one step at the time; however, those steps were running fast and furious. I did choose a different doctor.

For more than one reason, Ed decided to sell our little house and purchase another. It had more space, hard wood floors, and porches on front and back. The house was a little closer to my parents and I could still walk to visit them. We celebrated Evan’s first birthday after we moved. My grandmother, who could hardly walk, came to his birthday party. To my knowledge, she never was in the house of another grandchild.  Evan was her first great grandchild but that number increased the next five years. For about four months, there were five generations of my grandmother’s Taylor lineage.

Ed purchased a car and, as we drove down the heavily graveled road to show his parents, he told me to see how easy it was to ‘guide.’ I could not drive and never had my hands on the wheel of a car. I reached for the wheel and evidently jerked it right out of the deep ruts and into the unusually heavy gravel. Ed tried to pull it back into the clear tracks but the back wheels were skidding toward the ditch and the car went over on its side. As the car was sliding, it threw me around the car with the driver’s side on the ground.  We were only steps from his parent’s house and his brother helped him get me out through the door in the air. Pure fright gave Ed strength to lift the car back onto the wheels. His brother took us to my doctor where I checked out fine. We were thankful all was well and that slightly scary event became only a memory as we sped through life.

The pregnancy was through the winter and this doctor did not mention keeping weight down. With my mother unable to watch my calorie intake, I gained thirty pounds. When I hung out the clothes, if Evan was not sleeping, I dressed him warmly and took him with me. It seemed dangerous to leave him in the house alone. He liked to help me, so he would pick up a garment and drag it across the dry, brown grass to say, ‘here, honey.’ His father called me Honey and Evan just could not get Mother out. Not that he put many words together; for example, it sounded like ‘he, o-ney.’ When I tried to get him to say ‘mother’ he would look confused but it did not change his name for me until he was a few years older. He was potty trained and weaned before Wayne’s birth when Evan was 17 months old. My sister got married that year and while dressing to attend her wedding, I remember thinking I would never get my weight under control. I weighed 111.

My father was a musician. Since he and my mother had no son, they were engrossed in the life of their first grandchild. They took him everywhere they went. Daddy would clap his hands in rhythm and Evan actually danced in time to it, smiling with delight each time he heard the clapping of Daddy’s hands. The clapping of my father’s hands was unlike regular clapping. It sounded almost like a musical instrument. Evan grew up to love music and he inherited my father’s talent. My son would have been 62 today had he lived. He will be in Heaven four years in October. Today is also his and Judy’s 40^th anniversary

Ed told me I should learn to drive and I took him at his word. He walked to work, so I had the car. I sat Evan in back seat and six-month old Wayne in front beside me. The problem was with the clutch. It lurched forward and, in my mind, jumped backward.  Each time it heaved forward, Wayne would tumble to the floor. He yelled and I grabbed him up for comfort as my tears mingled with his. Moreover, if that were not enough, Evan decided to join the party by bawling. I put a fat pillow in the floor and continued my lessons. Wayne was never hurt nor even sustained a bruise; the key was five miles an hour. When my father became aware I was trying to drive, he came by and told me to get in the car. He took me to the Courthouse and told the man in charge, ‘my daughter needs a driver’s license.’ Since that time in 1950, I maintained my license. The only test I ever had was when we moved to Texas. Just the thought of taking a test overwhelmed me and nearly two years after moving here, I still did not have a license. One day a very good friend came to my house and ordered me to get in her car. She took me for the driver’s license. While I passed the test, I was never a good driver nor did I ever feel comfortable under the wheel. The failure to learn to be comfortable driving was a big mistake. I never considered a life without Ed.

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