Firsts: First Time I Held A Child of Mine

Steve holding Amy moments after her birth Aug. 26, 1984

I'm afraid I'm going to be jumping around a bit as I continue my "Firsts" series of my blog. I apologize for writing about "firsts" so long, but once I started I realized how many of these there are, and they're all special to me. I'll get around to the other writing before long.

This "First" is the first time I ever held a child of mine. Yes, that's me behind that surgical mask, and that's my firstborn, Amy Elizabeth I'm holding. The date is Aug. 26, 1984 and we're at Northside Hospital in Atlanta. We've just had the baby. Boy was it rough on ME! All that waiting and worrying! ha ha - I'm saying that for Donna's sake, who had the easy job of just pushing the little bugger out.

Seriously - what a moment. I remember it was so powerful that all my emotions were rushing together and came tumbling out at once. One minute I was laughing and the next I was crying. What a miracle birth is. Anyone who doubts the existence of God should stand in a delivery room and watch their baby be born and all doubts would evaporate. I know I'll never forget the experience.

I was all prepped to take Donna to the hospital ala Ricky Ricardo. We had a bag packed, I was on "go" at all times once the date neared. I was worried because we had a 45 minute drive from our house to the hospital. But then as it turned out, Donna had already gotten up and showered before she woke me up to say, "Dear, wake up we need to go to the hospital now." Imagine being stirred out of your sleep by a sentence like that. In the end we made it with time to spare. In fact, Donna had to walk the corridors of the hospital for an hour or two before they prepped her for delivery.

Amy's birth itself was particularly surprising. For almost nine months our doctor and his staff told us they were sure Donna was carrying a boy (we didn't want to know in advance). As Amy began being born the first thing the doctor (Dr. Thomas Modi) said was, "Woh! He's got red hair!" I remember thinking, "Red hair? Where did he get red hair?" Then, a few moments later the doctor said, "Woh...he's a she!" I remember thinking, boy Dr. Modi sure says "Woh" a lot! I wonder what other surprises are in store for us? At any rate, having a red head, and a little girl was a surprise - and a happy one for her proud parents!

Look at the photo closer and you'll see that little Amy has forceps marks on her face near her eye. Thankfully those faded. You'll also notice we're in a real old-fashioned delivery room. Nowadays the couple waits in a room that looks like the family room of your house, then when it's time they simply turn on a few more lights and voila you have the baby right there. I do believe that would have made me feel more comfortable; like I said the whole episode was pretty traumatic on me :)

Ah well - what a feeling to hold that little bundle; to smell that sweet baby and to hold her. What a blessing. I know I will never forget it. Thank you Donna, and Amy, and Dr. Modi, and most of all, thank you God!

Firsts: First Car

Steve's 1967 Pontiac GTO parked at Donna's house.

Another exciting first for me was my first car, a 1967 GTO aka a "GOAT," which my parents bought for me for $1500 in 1972 (a princely sum back then). Wow did I love that car! It was signet gold with a black vinyl roof. It had hood scoops (fake ones) upon which I added black vinyl "GTO" stickers on each side in case someone didn't notice it was a GTO (see the photo below). Under the hood it had a 400 cubic inch, 335 HP engine with a 4 barrel Quadra-Jet carburetor, and a turbo-hydramatic three-speed automatic transmission that could be operated manually through a Hurst "dual-gate" shifter when you really wanted to show off. It had 15 inch mag wheels, white letter tires and the rear end was jacked up a mile high with air shocks. It had dual Thrush mufflers that really made it purr and growl. Inside it had a state-of-the art 8-track tape player, black authentic-vinyl bucket seats and a tiny custom wood and metal steering wheel that made you feel like you were driving a dragster. In today's parlance the car would definitely be classified as a redneck mobile; but back then it was nothing but pure coolness.


Steve and Donna washing the "Goat" - notice the classy stickers I put on the hood.
Oh...and the ultra-cool railroad conductor hat I wore every day my senior year
of high school for some unknown reason.

I have so many great memories of that car. I remember riding around with Donna seated beside me while Leslie West and Mountain blared "Mississippi Queen" out of the car's ample speakers. I remember washing the car at least 2-3 times a week (as pictured above), and I remember rumbling up to school and claiming "my" parking spot. It was just the coolest ride ever.



Dad bought the GTO from a fellow Lakeshore Lancer, Howard Johnson. That was pretty cool too. I looked up to "Ho Jo" as we called him, so it was nice to get a car that was already well-appreciated at our school. I also recall this car was the only one I've ever owned that I even remotely wanted to work on - and I did. The car was "old school" in the sense that you could open the hood and tell what things were: radiator, alternator, starter, air filter, carburetor, heads, plugs, etc... Can you picture me going to an auto parts store? Well I did - it was always fun to add a new gadget or part to such a piece of art.

One of the saddest days of my early driving years was the day my Dad "borrowed" my car for some reason and was involved in a fender bender. The whole thing was the other guy's fault, but I remember being crushed that "my" car was in an accident. Dad and I were talking about that incident just today and he told me that the police officer handling the accident couldn't believe Dad was the operator of the hot rod. Dad said he kept asking him, "Now tell me again, who was driving the gold car?" Looking back that accident today it all seems petty, especially since my parents bought the car to begin with - but molehills can easily be turned into moutains when you're a hormone-possessed teenager in love with an automobile.

To this day sometimes I look over at Donna when we're driving down the road and I remember those amazing days - the windows rolled down, the wind blowing through our long hair, 8-track blaring, mufflers roaring, people staring, and small animals and children scrambling as their parents tried to get them indoors to safety. It was the greatest! 

Firsts: First Apartment

Oh man - isn't she beautiful!

The photo at right is the first apartment I ever lived in. That's my beautiful bride only a week or so after we got married pointing to the door of our humble first abode, J-110 University Village, which was the University of Georgia's primary married housing area at the time. 

I moved straight from living at home with my parents, to a dorm room for three years (Russell Hall). Donna and I both had jobs in Athens by the time we were Juniors, she in the office of the inimitable Coach Dan Magill in the UGA Athletic Dept, and me coaching at the Athens YMCA. During spring break of our Junior year we decided it would be better to go ahead and get married that summer rather than wait until we graduated and had to worry about marrying and moving and getting jobs all at the same time. Thus we planned organized the whole event and were married three months later in June of 1977. With all the planning and organizing and picking out stuff that happens today, can you imagine people doing all that in only a few weeks? Our rehearsal dinner was at my parents' house, the wedding happened in a church and the reception was downstairs in the fellowship hall of the church complete with punch, cheese straws and mixed nuts. That's about all you got back then. No limo, no fancy reception, no meal, no bar, no videographer, etc... Regardless, our wedding "took" and we're still happily married 34 years later.

Part of getting married meant we could give up our dorm rooms (me in Russell and her in Creswell) and our two separate meal plans at UGA, and we could combine our forces and finances and move into married housing. Boy were we proud of that place! Our apartment cost us $90 a month plus electricity, which rarely ran more than $3-5 a month. The receipt below was for our first full month, July of '77 and shows we used a whopping $4 of power that month, one of the hottest of the year. We were dirt poor, but happy as can be. One of the best things about living in married housing was that most everyone else was in the same boat (poor and happily in love) so we fit right in. By the way, I checked online (click to view) and the same unit currently rents for $600 a month and heaven knows how much the electricity costs now.

The first rental receipt for our apartment - $94

In an odd twist of fate, my parents' house burned in July 1977 a month after we were married. But good almost always comes from bad. Donna's parents owned a rental house next door to their home that was empty at the time so mom and dad moved in beside the Hartsfields and from that day on - even long after my parents moved to Buckhead and then on to Cumming - we have celebrated most of our our holidays and birthdays together.

Sometimes I think of those halcyon days when were were young and newly wed and the world stood before us ripe for conquering. I seem to think of them more in recent years as I've watched my own children grow up and leave the nest and make lives of their own. It's a beautiful plan actually. Personally I feel ever so grateful to be where I am today, sandwiched between our loving parents who provided such happy homes and abundant opportunities for us, and our own children who have turned out so well and made great lives for themselves. Thank you Lord for this wonderful gift. Your grace never ceases to amaze me.

Firsts: My First Pet

Blackie and Steve

This photo was taken in 1959 and is of me and my first pet, a Cocker Spaniel named Blackie. There is nothing quite like a child's first pet, that's for sure. We got Blackie in Puerto Rico and we kept him for several years. He was a loveable dog and very well-behaved. Blackie was also a great traveler. He not only went overseas with us, but he travelled with us as we zig-zagged across the country on all those family outings. During those travels the poor canine got blamed for more "smells" in the car (remember those?) than it was possible for one small dog to make. Usually it was the one most "in the know" if you know what I mean, who would whine "Blackie!  Not again!" as the odor slowly wafted through the car and my parents frantically rolled down the windows gasping for a breath of fresh air.

Cars in the fifties had really deep wells in front of the back seat where your feet were supposed to go. They were the perfect size for a little boy on one side and a Cocker Spaniel on the other. I can't tell you how many times I went to sleep in one of those wells looking over at Blackie in the other one. I really loved him (as is evident from the picture below). He was truly a great friend. Being a military family we moved a lot. Sometimes moving is really fun, sometimes it’s tough (it got tougher as I got older). It was fun because you got to start over and you eventually met new friends. It wasn't fun because you had to leave those new friends, usually after only a year. Having a pet like Blackie made the transition easier. He was always there.

Man's Best Friend

When we lived in Jackson, MS Blackie got hit by a car one night. We awoke to find him sitting on the stoop outside the house missing an eye. He recovered from his accident to live many more years though. He was eventually allowed to "retire" at a relative's house in the country (Johnny Wilson's mother). We were moving to a cold climate where the Puerto Rican Cocker Spaniel would have been miserable. It was tough leaving him behind, but we frequently heard how happy he was back in Mississippi. Later in life I wondered from time to time if what I was being told about my first pet's fate was true. But you have to trust your parents and grandparents. Surely they wouldn't lie to a little boy, would they? Here's to Blackie - my best childhood friend.

Blackie you were there for me
When I was just a lad.
I thank you for the joy we shared,
For nuzzling me when I was sad.

I remember the comfort I felt
as we slept in those back seat wells.
I'm so sorry that you always got blamed
for those lovely "doggy" smells.

Rest in peace dear friend from
the distant past.
And know I miss you every day
but good times don't always last.

In my childhood memories you will
always roam.
Through pastures of green and woods
of brown; always making my house
a home.

Firsts: My First Date

Okay - now I'm moving into my more "mature" years in my "firsts." I hope my readers can take this!  This photo was taken on January 16, 1966. I'm two months shy of being 10 years old. The caption on the back of this photo says, "Steve making a date with Gloria." The girl, Gloria Grubbs, was my first girlfriend, and this was my first date.

Okay... stop that laughing! This is serious stuff. I was in the 4th grade and we lived in Prentiss, MS. For the first nine years of my life girls meant nothing to me. You just had to put up with them. They giggled a lot and they couldn't play baseball very well. Suddenly, in late '65, and early '66 I became interested in women (I'm sure I referred to them as "women" back then).

And what an amazing transformation it was! We moved to Prentiss from Ft. Leavenworth, KS where I had been the only boy in a choir with over 20 girls, but I had no interest in girls. My voice back then sounded like a girl, mind you. But then, my voice changed at age 9 1/2 and suddenly girls interested me. No....I that's not true. I didn't go through puberty at 10, but I sure was suddenly interested in Gloria Grubbs. Truth is, I was very interested in Gloria Grubbs. That much is evident from the photo. Look at it closer.

You may not be able to tell, but I have on a dickey under that shirt. What? You don't know what a dickey is? A dickey is a fake turtleneck - like the one Cousin Eddie wore in Christmas Vacation. Mine was about as bad as Cousin Eddie's. As I recall the one in the photo was white and it really made that blue shirt I had on "pop." And notice the telephone. That phone was your standard-issue rotary dial, 50 pound black model. You remember those don't you? And what's with the "Forget Hell!" Rebel general picture mom and dad had hanging in our house? I know were were living in MS and it was the sixties, but that was a still a little politically incorrect don't you think? And I have absolutely no idea why we had those wind chimes hanging over an interior door in our house. No doubt the house was drafty, but that's a little much don't you think?

Oh well. I look pretty happy talking to Gloria - telling her when Mom and I are going to pick her up (Dad was in Korea). What? You didn't do those "dates" as a kid where your parent drove and you picked up your date and mom or dad drove you around like a chauffeur and tried not to look in the backseat? Oh yeah... classy. Mom even drove my sister and her boyfriend (8th graders at the time), and a a few other kids (including Gloria and me as fourth-graders) to see Herman's Hermits in Jackson, MS back in '66. Everything went fine until Mom tried to parallel park and she hit the car behind us and she shouted, "Oh $#!&." Tricia and I weren't sure whether to be proud of our mom's Sailor's mouth, or whether to turn invisible with embarrassment over the incident. But these days I think I'd be mostly proud. I still don't know what mom did during the 3 hours we were in the concert. But that, like so many of these tales, is a story for another day.

Firsts: My First Party

My mom labeled this photo, "July 28, 1959, Steve going to his first birthday party." I suppose kids going to birthday parties has been a big deal since the Stone Age. I did, and I remember when my daughters went to their first birthday parties - they were so excited. I look pretty excited in this photo don't you think?

Actually it looks like I'm embarrassed; that's probably why I'm flashing the pre-Nixon "V" for victory symbol with my left hand, huh? And look at that present! Kind of small, don't you think? I obviously wrapped it - and tied the bow. And even if bought a tiny present at least I got dressed up for the party. Stylin' don't you think? Dad even combed my hair (it was always Dad who combed and put Vitalis on my hair) and mom obviously pressed my shorts - look at that pleat down the front!

Other tidbits about this "First" photo: We lived in San Juan, Puerto Rico at the time. I don't remember whose party it was (I'm sure mom  remembers). And I'm sure cake and ice cream were served.

PS - another "first" about tonight's post is this is the first blog post I've ever done from Picayune, MS. I'm here tonight on a business trip. Back in '59 I bet no one ever imagined wi-fi would be available in Picayune!

Firsts: My First Christmas

My first Christmas I was nine months old and we lived at Eglin AFB near Pensacola, Florida. As you can tell by the highly intelligent look on my face in the photo below, I was totally baffled by what was going on. All I knew was we were getting up early, staying up very late, and I was getting loads of candy and toys in between. It doesn't get much better than that. To this day Christmas is still my favorite day of the year. I love the wonder and magic of this special time of the year.

Tricia and Steve - Christmas 1956

The photo above was taken at my maternal grandparents' house in Starkville, MS where we had travelled at some point during the holiday. The cute kid sitting beside me in the photo above is my long-suffering sister. I have another, much more dignified photo of the two of us at home that first Christmas, only I'm trying to eat the silver tinsel icicles off the tree (remember those?). The tree at my aunt's house, as you can tell from the photo, is simply a cedar someone cut from the nearby woods, nailed a couple of boards to the bottom of, and voila! There was no such thing as Christmas tree lots on every corner back in the fifties in Mississippi.

The two companion photos below pretty much sum up my life at the time. I was very happy to see all the presents and I wanted them all (photo 1). And what I mostly cared about back then was getting whatever I could in my mouth at the time (photo 2). It didn't much matter what it was or where it had been. Some would say not much has changed about me in the ensuing years!

I like presents! I want them ALL!

I want to put that (and everything) in my mouth!

I'll close with a Christmas poem by Christina Rossetti

A Christmas Carol

In The bleak mid-winter
Frosty winds made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron,
Water like a stone
Snow had fallen, snow on snow,
Snow on snow,
In the bleak mid-winter,
Long ago.

Our God, Heaven cannot hold Him
Nor earth sustain;
Heaven and earth shall flee away
When he comes to reign:
In the bleak mid-winter
A stable place sufficed
The Lord God Almighty
Jesus Christ.