New Orleans

 I detest autobiographies, since most people forget the bad things or glorify the good things, so that all people turn out being something short of a saint.  Needless to say, I have not been considered for sainthood, even though I certainly deserve it.  So, my story will be interesting without being above life, or at least I'll try.
 I was born in New Orleans, Louisiana on June 17, 1953.  My father was associate professor of Religious Education at New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary.  I do not remember much about New Orleans, since I left when I was five, but the beginning and shaping of my psyche was in New Orleans.
 My fear of going to the doctor was born in New Orleans.  My doctor would mix pain with pleasure.  His office was on the second floor of a building, and you had to walk up a flight of wooden steps to get to it.  The building was old and dark, and the walk up was reminiscent of going to the gallows.  I was constantly getting shots for one thing or another, and the nurse would give me the shot and then a lollipop.  I was a crier, too.  I loved to cry and soon learned that if I cried, my mother would cuddle me.  I was pretty smart for a kid, even though my threshold of pain was pretty low, too.
 When I was about three, I had an operation for a hernia.  I didn't know very much about what was going on, but I knew it hurt, and after the operation, I had to learn how to walk again.  My parents and my brother, who was 7 1/2 years older than me, would take turns in getting me to walk.  I kept saying, "Easy does it!", but I felt my insides were going to come out.  Naturally, I'm not a big fan of doctors.
 The city did not mean much to me, except for the pleasure centers, such as the zoo, the park, the river, and the neighborhood, but I had fun anyway.  After all, the main responsibility for children before they reach school age is to have fun.  My first lesson into the law and preservation of nature came from visits to the zoo.  I still have a very warm spot in my heart for animals, except dogs.
 There was one dog in my neighborhood, which to a child of four looked like a Great Dane.  I do not remember if it ever bit me, but I am sure that it wanted to.  This was the time before the leash law was in effect, and I would be coming home from kindergarten, or actually running, with the dog on my heels all the way to my front door.  I suppose he wanted to play, and to all you dog lovers--I am sorry, but to this day I HATE DOGS!!
 Our house sat on a filled-over swamp.  In the summer, the mosquitoes would come to nest and take up residence next to our house.  We also had a problem with little green lizards, and it would not be uncommon to come home and see a lizard crawling around in the house.  Of course, New Orleans was relatively civilized, but the climate was enough for it to be classified as tropical.  Tarzan could have fit right in.
 My first lesson in sex education came when I was five.  My friend, Paul Price, had a chicken egg, which he was hatching thanks to an incubator.  He invited me over to his house to watch the egg become a chick.  It was very interesting and very embarrassing.  I really don't know why.
 One thing about me is that I am loyal to any situation.  I was loyal to New Orleans, because it was where I was born, and I would not let anyone criticize the city.  I was also loyal to my friends, and it just about crushed me when I had to leave Paul Price.  My father got another job in South Carolina, and we had to move away.  I did not understand why we had to go, so I gave Paul some crayons and left.  The scene would really make a good tearjerker in a movie.  We left, and I've only been back to New Orleans once since then.