Bobby Davis -- Early Edition

My dad and me--he was 38 in this picture

I am very grateful to my sister Darlene who goes to great lengths to send me memorabilia from my Davis family.  By the way, my mother was a Davis before she got married to my father (no relation!), so when I say Davis family, I mean that literally.  She recently sent my pictures from some scrap book in her possession that I believe I already have in my scrap books.  But it was that Darlene thought that I might not have them; that she was thinking about me!

These pictures are from my earliest days, literally from birth to some age before eight months.  I write eight months because that was when my parents and I moved from 337 North 6th West to 509 North 8th West, the home in which I grew up, and which can be seen in its present state in another blog posting (August 5, 2015).

Notice the fashions, the car, the chairs, and most of all, the crib.  Mom, Darlene and Aunt Ruby looking on.

I was born on Friday, June 4,1954 to Albert Earl and Bess Davis.  If I'm not mistaken, I weighed a paltry 5 lbs. 10 ounces.  I don't recall ever getting an answer as to why I weighed so little, so I usually state my deductive reason:  my mother was not really taking care of herself physically because she was nursing my father back to health from a heart attack he had in May of 1953--at the age of 37.  My reasoning is probably not accurate.  I need to ask her that in person when I see her in the next life!

What my birth timeline does tell me is that I likely was conceived whilst my father was recuperating from the heart attack.  I was born when my father was 38 and my mother was 37.  I was very much an oops; how can it be otherwise with a brother who is 17 years older and a sister who is 12 years older?  There was a baby born between them but who dies within an hour after he (Eugene Leroy Davis) was born, or so the story goes.

My wonderful 12 year old sister Darlene.

When my mother was preparing to leave the Holy Cross Hospital in Salt Lake City the Monday after, she was told that I was not breathing properly and that I "had turned blue."  I assume that referred to my coloring.  She was told that I had been placed in an isolette with 100% oxygen (very much a no-no these days because of its negative effect on eyesight).  

I guess there was some doubt as to whether I would survive.  Evidence of that is, as the story goes, I was given a name and a blessing (an LDS ritual for newly born babies usually done in a church service a month or two after the birth) in the hospital.  My mother used to say that I looked like a little sparrow that had fallen from the nest.  At 5 lbs. 10 ounces (perhaps a few ounces less at the time), I must have been quite tiny.  I was given the name of Robert Earl Davis, a given name that my parents liked and a middle name the same as my father's.  I did have some red hair, so my initials were an indication of that red hair which I am proud to say I still have plenty of!

Obviously, I survived.  Obviously, I gained weight.  Obviously, I was loved by my parents and am loved by my siblings.  Obviously, that was the first of many wonderful blessings in my life.  

Thanks Darlene for caring about me and sending these pictures!  And yes, they are black and white because I'm that old!