Me, the Early Years

Enough about anxiety for a while. Let's go back to where I began to be. I was born in Detroit, Michigan, the second of 3 children. I was named after a chicken farmer that my parents were friends with, Janie Bennett. We moved back and forth between Detroit and Cleveland with my dad's job, then in 1969 we came to Indianapolis, Indiana, and that's where we stayed. I don't have a lot of memories of those years. One I do remember is walking home from grade school one dark and stormy afternoon with my brother. I don't know if this was our first day of school, or just the first time we walked home, but we got lost. I would have been in first or second grade and I can remember the feeling of hopelessness, like I'd never see my family again. And my brother, being only a year and a half older than me, was no comfort. Obviously we did make it home (I think my mom came to rescue us), but It was a memorable event in my life.

I can only remember one of my teachers from those years, and only because she smelled weird. I've come to recall that smell now as powdered old lady crotch, not unpleasant particularly, but distinct. Her name, I believe, was Mrs. O'Clock, or at least that's what I called her. It was in her class that I had my first public crying spell. Someone's mom had brought cupcakes and handed them out to everyone but me! I'm sure it was an oversight, but I was painfully shy back then and would never have mentioned that I didn't have one. So I had my own little pity party, sobbing quietly at my desk.

I have good memories, too. We had a swingset that we moved from house to house. I think we moved 5 times from the time I was born to when I turned 10 (that may explain why I have trouble making friends). Anyway, I remember a lot of fun times on and around that swingset. One afternoon the 3 of us were playing and my sister (2 years younger) was on the cross bar of the swingset, probably 4 feet off the ground or so (it was a big swingset, or at least it seemed big back then.) Anyway, a wasp landed on her cheek while she was up there. She was, of course, quite upset by it. My parents told her to just hold still and it would leave. They were mistaken. It stung her on the cheek! She now has a rabid aversion to wasps.

I had (and still have) a doll called Baby Coos (because if you squeeze her chest she coos). That doll was my favorite. It had a soft body and life-like arms and legs and head. I had cut her hair at one point, so she wasn't pretty, but I still loved her. Never gave her a real name. It was always Baby Coos. One day on the swing set her arm got caught in the swing chain (you really had to cram her little arms in there to make her hold on). It cut her "skin", leaving an inch long gash. For years she had to wear a bandaid on that arm. Once I figured out that it would never heal, I learned how to get all that sticky stuff off with alcohol, my first scientific discovery. I later learned that baby oil worked better.

Each of us kids had a cat back then. Mine was named Mittens because she had white mittens. Not an accurate name as she was white all over with gray patches, probably a 50/50 ratio of gray to white. I wasn't terribly creative with names back then. She was the perfect cat. She played well, snuggled well, behaved well. Gosh, I loved that cat. My brother's cat was named Mimzi. She was Siamese. She was like a dog. If you went outside, she'd follow you around. Once she had her ear bitten by a bird she was harrassing, leaving a knick in her perfect little ear. My parents cat was also a Siamese. Her name was Missy and she was mean! She loved to bite and scratch and terrorize guests. I think my sister had a cat but I don't really remember. I know she later had a white German Shepherd named Heidi. Maybe it was a striped cat named Tiger. Who knows.

We also had gerbils who liked to reproduce. I do recall having gerbils brought to up by cats now and then. I don't think we kept the cage very secure! My brother had a white rat named Bonnie. She was a very nice rat as rats go. He'd carry her around on his shoulder.

Anyway, that is a glimpse of my early years, before hell.