The Key West citizen. [volume] (Key West, Fla.) 1879-current, 1939-09-06

IOL dL least TWO mOntnS. SOmS
day we hope to tear her loose
from Miami permanently.
THE FOLLOWING LETTER
from a mother to her son on his
birthday could be most any
mother to most any son:
September 6, 1889.
Dearest Son:
Today, you have another birth
day. 1t SENS like a hundred
years since you were a fat, blue
eyed little baby and certainly to
me, the most beautiful master
piece God had ever made.
Your feet were too large for the
number one shoes that loving re-
lations had sent for your arrival
but they were very, very beauti-
full feet. Your little hands had
long, sharp nails and could claw
like tWo-year-old cat when you
wanted your dinner, but the claw
ing was pure joy to your young
mother.
When you were two months old
you had two teeth. the smartest
baby in town. And then you
started biting as well as clawing
for your daily food, so to help
painful matters existing between
us two, you were rationed on
milk and given pot likker and
soft corn bread. You were the
latest, healthiest baby in the
whole community. No enemas
for you, my dear. You never
fretted and never cried once in
all your babyhood days except
when you fell or were hurt in
some small way. You were new
er i'll until you were eight years
old and an epidemic of influenza
swept the country. You grew up
in prohibition days but you were
decidedly "wet" most of the
time.
Once I carried you to church,
clothed in a beautiful little dress
made with yards and yards of
lace and hand embroidery. My
own lovely dress was part of my
wedding trousseau. During the
sermon l was aroused from my
day dreams by your incessant
wriggling-and, oh, my beautiful
dreSs-but never mind now.
When l dedicated you to God
the day you came, 1 told him you
could either be President or a
great minister and in later years
you would tell the world your
mother made you.
Your first Sunday School card
had a golden text that l have
never forgotten-"He will keep
the feet of His Saints took
that as a sure sign God would
always be near you. 49,.
Your baby carriage and clothes
were the most elaborate in town;
your black nanny and your
white bull dog were with you
when you were sent out on sun
ny afternoons for the world to
behold.
You were loved, admired, pet
ted and stuffed until you were
roly poly as little brownie.
A few years pass, then came
the World War and because you
were little chap knew the
world had lost a great general.
When you were given an air gun
for Christmas and shot up the
figured wall paper in the living
room during my absence from
home knew you were just a lit
tie boy full of life.
AS you approached adolescence
l read a book on child physiology
and tried gently to tell you the
facts of life. about flowers and
pollen and beautiful little birds
from eggshells. But then you
were a smart, bright young lad
and soon knew you could vast
ly enlarge on my own poor
knowledge.
When you were twelve. you
hurt your hand poking your fin
ger into machinery. You came
home after druggist had band
aged the poor, torn finger and
slipped into your room and went
to sleep hiding your wound from
me. Late in the night I heard
your whimper of pain and learn
ed of your injury. Through many
years and quiet hours, sometimes
alone late in the nights, tears
have poured down my cheeks
and there was deep ache in my
heart because I did not know