Another Birthday!

Last Sunday, December 7th, I had another birthday. I turned 56. A week or so ago I figured out that the age of 56 is Sweet 16 and Forty all rolled into one!! We had a very nice Sunday. Union meeting was here, and we all had dinner here together. There were nine of us. Ken had made me a birthday cake, and even decorated it with birthday wishes!



I was born on a Sunday, too. A new acquaintance one time asked me, "How long have you been going to meeting?" My reply was, "Well, I was born on a Sunday, and I guess we didn't go that day!" On the day that I was born, there were special meetings over at Port Allegany.



It was also the anniversary of Pearl Harbor Day, which was in 1941, and the beginning of the USA involvement in WWII. I have often joked that I was WWIII when I was born!



People have often told me stories about the day I was born, and somehow, it always made me feel special to hear them. Just for fun, I thought I would write down what I have heard!



According to me baby book, I was born at 5:50 in the morning. I was born at home, in the bedroom off the kitchen. My mother was taken care of by a midwife from Wilcox named Alma Peterson. My mother named me after her. I do not know why she did. They were acquaintances but I don't think they were close friends. Perhaps my parents just liked the name. And, I was number 6 in the family, so perhaps they were running out of ideas!



Some people came to visit us before they left for special meetings: my Uncle Max and Aunt Bertha and Gertie bumpus. James Shadle is also listed in the baby book, so he must have been visiting them. Some came to visit later in the day. I assume these workers had been at the special meetings and stopped on their way to somewhere else: Miriam Mader, Susan Wallace, and Willie Beacom! Of those who are listed as visitors, the only ones still alive are Miriam and Jim.



My mom and I did not go to the special meetings, but my dad did. Apparantly he left it up to the rest of the 5 children whether they would go or stay home. My sister, Ruth aged 14, decided to stay home with us. I do not know about the others.



The news of my birth was told amongst the friends and family at special meetings. The story goes that my Uncle Max told people that my name, Alma Louise Lindberg, spelled the word ALL and that meant I would be the last of the children! He was not a true prophet, because three years and a month later, my younger brother Glenn was born! So, I wasn't ALL!



Gertie told me ths story of coming there to see me again in the evening, and I was crying and crying. When someone picked me up, there was blood on my shirt and in the bassinet. Apparantly my umbilical cord was not completely tied off and had to be redone. Gertie said that my mother said, "Oh, my baby, my baby, she is dying!" But of course, I did not die and I am still kicking around 56 years later.



Yes, the stories of the day of my birth have always made me feel very special. In 56 years, there have also been lots of days that have been very, very special to me. There have also been some days that were very, very hard, but they are all part of my life's experience and have made me what I am. Life has had joy and sorrow interwoven and I am thankful for everything.