The Chronicles of the Rockwell Break-a-Bean

Like most people I was born at the usual age. I first saw the light of day in an old log cabin I helped my father build. Doctors used to slap newborn babies to start them breathing. When I was born the doctor didn’t slap me – but the nurses did!

According to my four-years-older-than-me sister I was the latest model from Sears. She wanted to send me back for a refund. In as much as I came without warranty, Sears refused take me back or give a refund. I was born, as they say, with a silver spoon in my mouth. Fortunately, the doctor was able to remove it before I choked.

My father wanted to name me Rockwell Break-a-Bean. (The day I was born I beat him at arm wrestling,) My mom objected. My sister wanted to name me Brat and continued to call me that for many years. She was quite versatile with a broom. Besides sweeping the floor she would sweep me out of the house, accompanied with threats to my health.

Some may have the impression that I was born in pre-historic times. It wasn’t exactly pre-historic but it was different. I met a lady who was born in a sod hut on the prairie. Having seen the inside of a sod hut I was glad I wasn’t born in one. I like the mice and bugs to live outside my house rather than share my room with them. I hope you will enjoy the stories I will be sharing.