Slowly (it seemed forever) Growing Up
It must have been 1944 and scary
in that studio downtown--Kress's? Green's? We both seem to have fixed our gaze on the same object, or were we looking at our mother or father, who must have vainly tried to assure us that we would survive this ordeal. Obviously we weren't convinced. A few years later, we knew our roles well enough, though. I, Bobby, was the protector, the cowboy hero gunning down the villains, and Sissy the saved damsel. Along about this time, 1948, our baby sister Jan was born. I must have thought she would fall (see photograph below), such a tiny thing. Janis Louise Taylor, born June 9, 1948. About two months later, the cowboy hero, protector of distressed damsels, would go to Children's Hospital, diagnosed with polio. What ever would come of us?
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