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I Have Some Bad Childhood Memories

Back in the early 1950s, the news came out in newspapers and on the radio.

Since I did know how to read (Just barely) in 1953, I had been, as far as I was able, following the story of the Rosenbergs and their conviction for conspiracy to commit espionage.

That day, I remember that I had been playing outside while my mother had been listening to the radio in her room.

For some reason (I wasn't encouraged to ask questions) we'd gotten rid of our big old radio in the living room and the one radio we had was in my mother's room. Somehow, I knew something was wrong, so I came back into the house.

My mother stood in the living room pale and looking very shaken. I tried to ask her what was wrong. She told me, "I'm fine." Then she told me to go outside and play. I did, reluctantly.

Five minutes later, I heard a knock on our front door and men's voices. I returned to the house by the back door and stood in the kitchen watching the living room through the arch that separated the rooms.

The two men wore suits and appeared to be in their early 30s. They each carried a medical bag; obviously, they were doctors.

My mother sat down in an upholstered chair and I could see she was shaking like a vibrating factory machine part. Each doctor opened his medical bag, and then, as if it were a rehearsed dance, they each stood on either side of her and grabbed each of her shaking arms and held each arm down onto the upholstered arms of the chair as they simultaneously gave her injections, one in each arm.

Then they quickly and very efficiently packed up their bags. My mother said, "Thank you," very clearly, slowly and quietly. They each nodded, and then quickly, almost in lockstep, walked out closing the front door. I had the impression they were in a hurry, perhaps with several other patients to see.

I walked back into the yard again, knowing my mother would not explain what was going on. It was frightening because my mother was anything but a weak person. And she'd been so pale and quiet; my mother screamed at me a lot and usually was a confident woman; she could handle anyone and anything. Whatever she had heard on the radio had really unnerved her.

Months later, when she hid in her room again listening to the radio, and told me to stay in my room and not listen, I did stay in my room but opened my door just enough to hear a description of the Rosenberg's last hours and double execution. I knew they had two children about my own age. At that point, I realized the twin doctor incident must have been about that. A few years later I knew more about the legal system and realized that day when the doctors came must have been the day that the news announced that the Rosenbergs had lost their final court fight and would soon die.

I am still wondering what they gave her because there really were not a lot of tranquilizer drugs back then. Obviously, it was some kind of sedative. And, from the way they were moving right along, I got the impression there were a few other people in my mother's world as upset as she was that day and entitled to VIP medical help.

 
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