“I’ll go and weigh her,” she said while walking toward the kitchen. “And just what do you intend to name her?” her voice trailing as she moved through the house.
“What’s you got there?” asked George who was leaning against the kitchen door smoking his pipe.
“Why, it’s your brand-new daughter,” said Gertrude as she handed the baby to him. “We need to weigh her. Where do you keep the scales?”
“I have them out in the barn,” replied George,” I was weighing out the feed for the milk cow. I’ll go and get them,” he said as he handed the baby back to Gertrude. “I’ll be a few minutes. I need to clean them up.”
Shortly he was back, scales in hand. The scales had a large oval half-moon scoop-shaped pan that sat on the top of them. Setting them on the kitchen table, he said to Gertrude, “I need to adjust them, take the blanket off and place it in the pan, and put the baby into the pan and hold her. That way we can get a fairly accurate measure.”
“She won’t fit,” exclaimed Gertrude, “she’ll just fall out.”
“Then gently hold her while in the pan,” said George
“I can’t remove her blanket, she’ll catch cold,” said Gertrude. “Take the pan and put it on the stove for a few minutes so it will warm up.” George did so and in a few minutes was back. Carefully, Gertrude placed a kitchen towel in the pan requiring George to readjust them before she carefully laid the little girl in it.
“Mercy, mercy,” exclaimed George, “it says here she weighs thirteen pounds and five ounces.”
“Are you sure?” questioned Gertrude. “I know she’s big but surely not that big.”
“Well, pick her up, and we’ll try again, then take your hands off her for a moment,” said George as he readjusted the meter hand. Quickly Gertrude picked her up saying, “Now hurry up. This baby needs to nurse and can’t stand too much of this.”
“Okay, put her back on the scales. Yep, just as I said, thirteen pounds five ounces.”
“Okay,” said Gertrude as she quickly wrapped the baby up. “What are you going to name her?”
“I donno,” said George. “We were expecting a boy. You’ll have to ask Florence.”
“Did you hear that?” Gertrude asked Florence as she entered her bedroom, “Thirteen pounds and five ounces. She needs a name. What do you intend to call her?” Carefully she laid the baby next to Florence. “George says it’s up to you since he was expecting a boy.”
“Thirteen pounds and on the thirteenth day of the month. What do you s’pose this means? Is this a bad omen for her future?”
“Now, Florence, whatever makes you think such a thing?”
“Just wondering, seems like anytime we hear the number 13, it’s in connection with something bad. As for a name, I’m not sure. Let me think on it a spell. Right now I would like to take a nap.”
“First, let’s get the baby to nurse,” said Gertrude, “then you can nap.” Immediately, the baby girl began to suck.
Three hours later, close to midnight, Florence awoke. “Gertie [the nickname Florence affectionately called her], are you still here?” she asked, speaking louder than normal.
“I’m here, in the kitchen, just give me a minute.” It took a few minutes to finish washing the scraps of sheets. To Florence, it seemed like an hour before Gertrude appeared in the doorway.
“I’ve thought it over,” said Florence. “Her name is Addie May.”
Chapter 3
Demons?
Little did her parents know the tremendous influence this little girl would ultimately have on so many people. Soon they would see the strength this child was capable of when she began to pick things up using her left hand. George and Florence were horrified. They heard the old wives’ tales of mysterious and dark forebodings involving those cursed with a dominant left hand. They must do everything possible to change this child’s behavior. As Addie May matured, word seeped out of this condition. Other family and friends offered suggestions for a cure, some inhumane. Florence tried placing her left arm in a sling, but it caused her to lose her balance and fall. She tried putting red or black pepper on the hand, so when she put it close to her mouth, it would sting. It did not; however, it did cause her to sneeze. At mealtime, she tied Addie’s left hand behind her back forcing her to use her right hand. As soon as her left hand was free, it was back in full use. Nothing they came up with deterred her. After many experiments and none of the terrible things forecast happened to them, they left her alone.
When she began to walk, Florence observed Addie having difficulty balancing herself. Studying the situation, she came up with the idea that perhaps her legs were not the same length. She measured them. “Just as I thought,” she said out loud even though she was alone. “Her right leg is an inch shorter than the left.” She measured them again for conformation. When George came in from work that night, she related the experiment to him while he was eating supper.
“What can we do about that?” he asked cramming the last piece of johnnycake into his mouth.
“I’m sure she needs to see the doctor,” Florence responded.
“I doubt the doctor can do much about that. Most likely he’ll tell us she’ll have to figure out for herself how to deal with the problem,” he said. With that, the subject was dropped. It didn’t take long. True, Addie had a limp, but when she mastered walking, she was everywhere at the same time. As she grew, the limp became less pronounced. Her main attraction was her older sister’s doll. This created constant conflict. Finally Florence asked George to get her a burlap sack from the barn which she washed and created a crude doll body, stuffing it with wood shavings and sewing it closed. She made a cloth ball for a head, painting on it an outline of eyes, nose, and mouth. Taking some yellow yarn, she sewed it to the back of the head and made a long colorful dress, sewing it to the body. As a finishing touch, she sewed to the head a wide-brimmed hat, hoping it would be more desirable to Addie. She was delighted and kept the doll for many years.
George had cut blocks of wood two inches square, painstakingly sanding them smooth as glass, removing the possibility of slivers and painted letters of the alphabet on then for little George and Amy. After Addie’s birth, he made several more hoping to avoid quarreling. John, one of George’s coworkers, built a wooden rocking horse with leather reins, halter, saddle, and stirrups. He finished it off with real horsehair for a mane and tail and gave it to the children. Mrs. Griffin, a neighbor, donated some baby rattles along with a stuffed yellow chicken similar to those roaming the yard.
December mornings were very cold, typical of Northern New York. Just before Christmas, George cut the Spruce tree from the fence line he had selected back in October. Also, he collected several branches which Florence placed throughout the house giving it the wonderful scent of pine. She decorated the tree with holly, painted pinecones, and some figures she had made. A stocking was hung on the mantle for each of the children which contained walnuts (the trees grew everywhere), some apples, cranberries, chunks of chocolate, and a few pieces of candy Florence had managed to barter for a loaf of her homemade bread. Addie, just seventeen months old, was dazzled by all the new sights. Both sets of grandparents came on Christmas day. The children were intrigued by each of their grandfather’s version of good Old St. Nick. Grandma Bitney read the Christmas story