Today I write a personal column about the year I got a baby brother for Independence Day. On July 4, 1953 we headed for Maw's house. We, my family, lived in McDavid, Florida. Maw lived on a farm north of Evergreen. Her address was on a route from Garland, Alabama, but we always thought of it as going to Evergreen. We always drove through Evergreen on the way, and, as far as I know, I have never seen Garland.
The family, when we began the trip, consisted of my parents, Cecil and Inez Chancery, my 8 year old brother Bobby, my five and a half year old sister Mary, my three and a half year old self and my baby brother, so far, 11 month old William.
What I remember, vividly, is that at some point we stopped the car, there was a commotion, and an ambulance took my mother away. The rest I pull from stories told by those who remember the details better.
About the time we entered Evergreen my nearly nine months pregnant mother's water broke. We stopped. Daddy called for help. Daddy and the ambulance attendant tried to talk Momma into going to the brand new hospital in Evergreen. Nothing would do Momma but to be taken back to Tuberville Memorial Hospital in Century and have her baby delivered by Dr. TJ Stewart. The rest of us continued on to Maw's. Roy, the brother born that day, says he remembers talk of a pig being in the car with us, or possibly in the trunk.
Meanwhile Momma, Roy and the ambulance continued toward Century. In Brewton one of the ambulance crew gave a boy money to make a phone call, the phone number for Turberville Memorial and instructions to tell the hospital staff that they were bringing an OB patient from Evergreen.
The boy told the staff that an MO patient was coming from Evergreen. Dr Stewart correctly guessed that it would be Momma and had the delivery room ready. Momma says that when the ambulance doors opened Dr Stewart was standing before them laughing. Roy was born very shortly after the ambulance arrived at Tuberville Memorial.
When I was born, the third child born to my parents, Momma introduced me to my uncle Frank Moore and commented, “This is the caboose.” Uncle Frank's reply was, “The caboose is gonna look funny as h*** in the middle of the train.” As of sometime on July 4, 1953 there were five of us and there I was in the middle of the train.
In the years since then we have had good times, sad times, and exciting times. Perhaps none of the other times were quite so memorable as the day I got a baby brother for Independence Day.
