THE BEGINNING

I was born on May 3, 1928 in Franklin, New Hampshire. Ourrented flat overlooked the mills along the Winnipesaukee Riverthat flowed through the town to join the Pemigewasset toform the Merrimack. This river in turn flowed through lowerNew Hampshire and northeastern Massachusetts to enter theAtlantic Ocean just north of Boston. I mention the mills sincethey were such an important part of our life and the economy ofthe area. My mother, Elsie Wilson Moody, and father FrederickGeorge Moody were born in Lawrence. Massachusetts and bothwent to work in a mill on the Merrimack at age 14. My fatheronly completed the 9th grade. My mother graduated from highschool by attending night school. They had moved to Franklin toseek a better life working in the Steven's Woolen Mill. The townof Franklin, population 5000 (I use to say including cows) wassurrounded by wooded hills. The woods, rivers, and hills madean ideal environment for my sister Alice Etta Moody Seawardand me to grow up. She was 2 years older than I, and a delightto have as a sibling. My father Fred was the homemaker since hehad to quit work a few years prior to my birth. He was limitedin his activity by the complications of morbid obesity. We wererelatively poor and he was too proud to seek free medical care.Besides cooking meals, and keeping up the house, he had oddjobs working in the stores downtown.

My mother was the primary bread winner. She worked as a burlerin Stevens Mill, and was fortunate to have a job, since the earlythirties was the height of the great depression. Some of my mostvivid memories of that time related to bringing my mother herlunch. I was 7 or 8 at the time and fascinated (and frightened)by the large weaving machines that I used to have to pass onmy way to her work station. My mother's work area was equallyintimidating, shrouded by large pieces of cloth hanging fromfloor to ceiling. Her job, along with about 20 other middle-agedwomen was to mend defects in the cloth. I was impressed withhow happy they were. The majority were French Canadians whohad migrated from Canada which was about a hundred milesaway. They delighted in telling each other off color stories whileworking, which my mother would tell to my father at the dinnertable, much to the delight of my sister and me.

My sister Alice and I were brought up by Mrs. Meisterfield, aGerman lady who in fact was the owner of the flat that we livedin. Our mother would drop us off each morning at 6:30 on herway to work, and pick us up at 4:30 when she returned fromwork. These were fun days for us even though the environmentwas highly disciplined. We had lessons of various types, some inGerman, and learned many German songs which we enjoyed. TheMeisterfield's had a young daughter (possibly 30ish) who use tovisit from time to time. She was especially fun for us to play with.My mother told me that she was in a mental hospital in Concord.Of course I did not know what that meant at the time, and havepondered why over the years she was there since she seemed sotrouble free to me.

My father's weight and its associated diseases greatly limited hisphysical activities. It was difficult for him to engage in boyhoodgames with me such as baseball, tag, hiking, fishing etc. Weenjoyed our time together listening to mystery stories on theradio. It was a treat to lie next to him and listen to the familiarstrain of "the shadow knows". My father was a great guy, knownand well liked by the community. He was extremely generous andkind to those he called "the down and outers". One of his sidejobs was selling lottery tickets. Not infrequently he would giveone or more tickets to one of his down and out street friends,and there were many of them in the 1930s. He was so well likedon the street that he served a few terms in the State Legislatureas a representative of his district. His illness likely had a profoundeffect on the career choices of my sister and I. Alice became anurse, and I a surgeon. My father did not seek health care forwhat likely was diabetes with coronary heart disease. Severalof the older physicians in town were willing to see him for nocompensation, but he refused to accept their kind offer. He diedof a presumed coronary occlusion at age 52.

Living in Maple Square was a real treat for me. At an early age Iwas allowed to roam freely through the un-crowded streets andthe open fields that were filled with wildflowers and birds of alltypes. One of my favorite haunts was an old cemetery that wasclose to our house. This proximity got me a spanking on at leasttwo occasions. The first was when I brought home a bouquet ofroses to my mother that I had filched off a grave. The secondtime was more serious. After being spanked and told never togo to the graveyard again, I did. Unfortunately as I was climbinga gravestone it fell over on my leg. I was freed up by a passerbywho took me home for another spanking. These two episodestaught me great respect for grave yards and the importance ofobeying orders and keeping my hands off other peoples things,no matter how well intentioned. I also imagine that these graveyard experiences stimulated my love for the sight and smell offlowers, the feel of granite, and the urge through the healing artsto keep other people out of them.

My early years were likely profoundly influenced by the greatdepression of the early thirties. We were very poor but so waseveryone else, so poverty was just a way of life. This was great fora four year old kid. Every stick or stone was a toy. At about agesix we moved to the "flats" to make it easier for my mother to goto work and my father to go downtown. It was...