Beaver Welch

I must really be feeling wounded to pull this out. Perhaps just a temporary malaise after seeing myblackass's contribution of a photograph of a bloated corpse on a related message board. Hopefully, his is judicial evidence, and not extra-judicial, and he posts it because he identifies with a fate in the electric chair, which is obviously his destiny. Everybody brings something different to the table and that's his gift.

I love the fact that I'm one-year old and I'm interested in the man with the camera.

What do you make of this copy?

The Welches spent their vacation in Wisconsin and Canada--and while there convinced a Canadian couple to come down to Rock Island on their vacation.

Mr. and Mrs. Robert Dixon of Toronto, Ontario, Canada, spent this week in Rock Island at the Welch home.

Convinced? Was it hard? Why?

The penultimate paragraph bears repeating:

"Steven is nicknamed 'Beaver,'" Mrs. Welch explained, :Partly because of the TV program and partly because he's 'busy as a beaver' all day."

I recall my report cards in the third grade were still issued to "Beaver Welch."

On edit: Feb. 11, 2009

The truth can be so elusive. That's why having good archives is important. On a recent dip into such I found the following two images from 1958:

In the first, where I thought I was so cute being intrigued by the strange man with the camera, in truth I was simply being purchased, bought off, with some sugary food substance. See the hand of the woman with the painted-on eyebrows, and the opened bag of mini-marshmallows ? Take THAT away, and then you can SCREW the man with the camera---give me more cookie! One in the hand and back em up on the tray, bar-maid!

And look at my hair. Do I seem to be the only one sweating? AT AGE ONE??! What's up with that?

Although, I must say, mother looks tastefully accessorized with that interesting bracelet and those clip earrings. And such humble, focused poses.

This leads me to another issue: We, the two of us---my mother and I---have agreed that our memories can sometimes be so divergent that we are both going to have to write independent history books of our shared experiences.

A case in point---I am convinced that somewhere along in my childhood I accessed knowledge held inside "my baby book" where a fascinating anecdote was recorded----my first word. According to my memory, my first word as recorded in that book was "fry-fries," said on the way to some of the beef-suet-soaked treats at the golden arches of McDonald's.

Now, this is a trick, because there weren't very many McDonald's around in 1958. However, if you do the research, you'll find that one of the first few was on 23rd Avenue in Moline, Illinois, "The Farm Implement Manufacturing Capital of the World"---Moline, that is. In 1900, the John Deere Company was the fifth largest corporation in America, and it has always been headquartered in Moline, since the 1960's in a beautiful Eero Saarinen-designed building, so don't go looking down your noses at Moline, mind you, because it's also home to Case and Caterpillar.

Now here's where it gets very tricky. On a recent trip back to the salt mine holding family material I could reasonably determine that my baby book is no more! Yes! It has been squashed! Suppressed! Not to cast aspersions loosely here, but Cui bono? Who might have an interest in seeing my early addiction training, um...altered? Ma-ma? Da-da? I say fry-fry.