As I have thought about this subject, it has become apparent that pictures would be nice as well as the things I have to share. Therefore, I have asked Keara Damery to add pictures as this epistle progresses. At this point, I have no idea just how many 'parts' there may be, but we will move forward with this project in the knowledge it will take some space to tell and document with pictures. Bear with me!
Paul LaMar Rosenberg (Uncle Paul) was born on the 20th day of December in 1947. I doubt many babies arrive into this world with so much trauma. I don't mean just the act of being issued from their mothers body, but the treatment that quickly follows that experience. For Paul he was nearly drowned by the nurse who was cleaning him. As it was explained to me she had him by the feet with one hand and holding his neck in the other was passing him under a flowing faucet. He
jurked, either because the water was too cold or hot, who knows. The nurse lost control of him for a second and he got a face full of flowing water. Nearly drowning him. When they first brought him to me he had to be kept with his head lower than his feet to help relieve his lungs.
Thus began life in mortality for Paul.
He was not the prettiest baby. His head was large, he was cross eyed and his feet and hands were huge for so small a body. Hands very square with stout finders that displayed fingernails that were completely encircled with some kind of infection. We never did know why or what caused it. It was over a week before the material surrounding his fingernails hardened and dropped off. He never had any problems after that but is was strange!
He always had a prounounce 'widows peak' hairline, and when he grew older, his beard had the same outline. Very striking.
Paul quickly grew into his hands, feet and head. In fact his whole appearance changed in a short time, and he began to have blonde hair. At first it appeared his hair would be dark. Of course his eyes were dark so we had no idea that he would turn out to have such beautiful blue eyes. Not the color of his paternal Grand Fathers, but still blue. His hair turned out to be 'curly' and after a very short time everyone took him to be a girl; that really upset me. Oh, Pauls hair. You need to know that it took two of us holding him to wash his hair. His after birth experience instilled in him a dreadful fear of water that we never were able to totally overcome. Of this we will speak of later.
Paul had a cousin Connie Renee Smith who was born in October before he arrived. As it turned out they were to have a very close relationship when Paul was about 19 months old. Grandma Smith had to take care of Connies' mother, Aunt Willetta, because she had developed a serious infection in her ring finger from changing dirty diapers. At the same time, Paul took pneumonia and was very serious ill for a couple of weeks.
Jay would bring us into Grandma Smiths when he went to work so I could get some rest - being up a good portion of every night caring for Paul in our own home. Those were scarey days - again lung problems. Something that seemed to haunt Paul all of his life. He ever after was suseptable to Broncitis, which he had throughout his life.
When Paul was around three years old, Jay was recalled to the Navy to serve during the Korean War. Paul and I lived with my parents in Huntington Park. I had to go to work, so Grandma Smith again became the primary care giver. During this time, not around any kids you mind,
he had Measles and Chicken Pox in a 30 span of time. Really a sick little boy, but he managed to overcome it all and continue in his great happy spirit.
We had a rare experience when Jay returned from Korea in time for Chirstmas. He came into San Francisco and decided to 'thumb' his way home. By mistake thinking that things were as they had been when he served during the Second World War. Not so, those who took the bus gave him a raze ma taz when they rolled by him as he stood in the cold waiting for someone to pick him up. That Christmas Eve was undoubtedly the worst he or his family ever spent! As we waiting to decorate the Christmas Tree and Paul dogging us every little bit about: "when will daddy be here", we waited growing first exasperated and then down right mad. Ralph, my older brother decided to go ahead and put the tree up, Paul had fallen asleep. Much, much later the phone rang and Jay asked me to come pick him up in town. What a sight! As I drove up, I see Jay hanging on at lamp post drunk as a skunk. It appears that he finally got a ride home in a car with no heater. As they drove further south along the beach areas, the driver insisted they stop and get a drink to get warmed up. Jay, more anxious to get home, as you can imagine, was willing to oblige just for the sake of continuing quickly. Jay did not however 'drink'.
The driver insisted they have a shot of wiskey to warm them up. Of course such a drink caused Jay to make a 'face'. Well, that was not 'how you do it'! So another round was ordered, and this was repeated until the driver was satisfied that Jay could down the liquid without making a face. Result, he was soused! After 18 months you can imagine my feelings, and of course feel for the young boy who had so patiently waited to see his 'daddy' after so long an absence. Jay fell on the bed as soon as I got him in the house. Being drunk and cold, the heat just hit him and out he went. The result, his Navy Uniform in the morning was covered with lint from the bedspread and he was furious. Soooooo!?
Jay was soon discharged and returned home and normal life. We moved back into our home and Paul rejoined his friends and things, as it would appear, would return to normal. However, as we shall see, things are not always able to continue in such great expectations.
Thus on to Part Two
Written this 4th day of March 2011
by: Eileen Rosenberg
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