Flying High, Flying Far: The Mary Aikins Story
I had a very wonderful childhood, thanks to wonderful parents. I had an older brother but he was five years older than I was, so we were never particularly close. My grandfather lived with us as far back as I can remember - from the time I was a baby until he died in 1954 at age 92. I was 28 then. As I was growing up it was Mother and Daddy, Bill, and "Papa," as I called him. I was healthy, and I was happy.
The very earliest thing I remember about my life is the house we lived in. Our address was 301 North Yale, in Wichita. The house had a big archway between the dining room and the living room, and in that spot was a swing like a baby would sit in and jump up and down. One night, years later, I asked my mother, "Did we used to have a swing here?" With obvious surprise, she asked, “How could you know that?” “I don’tknow,” I replied, “but I can remember sitting in it and one time you poked your head around the corner to check on me — and I can remember you smiled at me.” She was dumb founded I could remember that. Mother guessed that I couldn’t have been but about a year old when I was in that swing.