This is my first memory. My mother is in bed in a room off the dining room. I want to see her but a nurse, dressed in white, says she needs to rest. The top of the dining room table is higher than my head.
I must have been three, or younger. I’m not sure if my mother was recuperating from her miscarriage or from the baby who died shortly after he was born, on November 8, 1948. They wouldn’t let her see the baby, who was badly deformed, but she was able to get him baptized. She named him Damien.
My brother was born exactly one year after that baby. My mother never told him the story of Damien.
Even so, inexplicably, my brother’s son, many years later, chose the name Damien for his confirmation name.
So Happy Birthday, Damien, and Happy Birthday Don, who is 60 years old today.