For today historical date, I bring you a piece written by Jean Bussell. I know you will enjoy it as much as I do.
And we all come into this world.
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Jean: Always a Monday
My Birth & Early Memories
Monday—always a Monday. That’s the day of the week on which I was born. And I say “always a Monday” because that was also the day that my dad had Rotary luncheon meetings, every week. He had joined Rotary in Washington Court House, Ohio, early in his teaching career in the second town where he and my mother lived. Every time Dad and Mother moved to a new job in a new town, Dad joined the local Rotary Chapter. From Washington Court House to Piqua to Eaton to Sidney and then back to Eaton when he retired from teaching. At each, he left his legacy as the Song Leader. Mother frequently served as the piano accompanist if the designated Rotarian was unavailable. Dad remained a Rotarian until the day he died at age 93, about 60 years after I was born.
On that particular Monday, October 13, 1947, my mother, round-bellied with me, was at home, as usual, taking care of my two older sisters, Jane Ellen (four years old) and Julie Anne (three). After Rotary, Dad came home to check on Mother before he went back to the high school in Sidney to teach his next music classes. Mother had been waiting for Dad to come home after Rotary as they previously had planned, and she promptly told him that it was time to go to the hospital. I have no idea where Jane and Julie were at this point, but apparently arrangements had been made for their care!
After just 46 minutes in Wilson Memorial Hospital, I was born at 4:01 p.m. They named me Jean Elizabeth.
About my name—apparently, my mother, whose middle name was Joycelyn, had considered breaking her middle name into two parts and calling me “Joyce Lyn,” but for some reason Jean Elizabeth became the name of choice. I’ve never really thought “Jean” was a very interesting name. It seemed rather boring and sounded sort of harsh to me, but since during most of my childhood I was called “Jeannie” and all my childhood friends still call me that, I guess it is okay. I also should note that the names Jane, Julie, and Jean were place holders for John! Both of my grandfathers were named John, and so it was important if and when a grandson was born to name him John. If I ended up being the last child, both men would be honored at least by my initials, as with Jane’s and Julie’s initials. Of course, four years later, my parents had a boy. They had their John!
The next most often-told story related to my birth took place at Christmas time in 1947 when I was just over two months old. My dad came home one day with an 8mm movie camera and light set. My mother was aghast that he had spent so much money on it! Of course, years later Mother would have given anything for the movies that resulted from that camera and its successor, the Super 8 version. I have 92 movies saved to DVDs that document our lives from 1947 through 1997, including every Christmas, every vacation, and lots of birthdays, graduations, parades, and summertime activities. They are a treasure trove, these motion picture memories of my life, complemented by old black and white still photographs and later color photos. That first camera of my father’s recorded my first Christmas in the little house at 853 South Miami Avenue in Sidney. The light set was two boxes with bright lights that were hooked together to store as one big box. When those lights came on, the subject was “blinded” by the brightness. The evidence is in that first Christmas movie and other early movies, in which my sisters dutifully walk into the scene with their eyes scrunched together trying to smile as Dad directed, but really wanting to sit down at the Christmas tree and get about the business of opening Santa’s presents. Of course, that first Christmas, I was carried into the glaring scene by my dear mother.
