Hi friends! I've not fallen off the earth. I've been scanning and organizing old photos the past two days and before that we were taking care of two grand girls and one grand pup while the kids work. The photo above is of me, my Mom and my brother George. I was about 3 1/2 and George was nearly two when this photo was taken.
My brother's given name is Maurice but we've always called him George and that is thanks to yours truly. I was almost two when he was born and couldn't say Maurice. So, Mom said one day I looked at him and called him "George" and it stuck. To this day, some 59 years later, he's still called George.
I suppose that's a habit in many large families ... to give nick-names. Mine is Weezy or Weese or ellouise. Or Ralph. That's what my husband calls me, Ralph. And I call him Fred. His given name is Clyde by the way but I usually call him Fred.
We gave each other these names when I was in rehab in 1979. I was in a wheelchair due to paralysis after the coma and therapists were teaching me how to walk again. Clyde brought me home from the hospital for the week-end with instructions he was to continue my therapy the two days I was home. He took them serious.
We lived in a small ranch style home then, and a hallway ran from our bedroom to the living room. He pushed my wheelchair into said hallway and stood me up, one arm braced against each wall on either side of me. (Told you the house was small). He then proceeded to walk away and leave me standing there. I said "what are you doing???" and he said, "come on RALPH, you can do it, walk!" I got so angry I said "Okay FRED!" and took a few steps on my own. He met me of course and helped me back into the wheelchair but our new names stuck. He gets some awfully funny looks when people hear him call me Ralph.
That reminds me ... we're gonna have new names in heaven one day. Wonder what mine will be there?