Osteoporosis - Family

Excerpted from
I'm Not Slowing Down
By Ann Richards, Richard U. Levine, M.D.

I was born in my parents' bedroom in a little community called Lakeview. We lived in a little country house, with a swing on the porch arid a white fence in front. I got all the benefits and deficits of being an only child. Although we were not well off, I never wanted for anything. I was expected to do my part around the house, and Mama was strict about that-you never went anywhere until the animals had been fed and the garden watered. Even then, I was not allowed to play away from the house for more than one hour at a time, and if I did not come home, my mother would come and get me.

There was not a whole lot to do in Lakeview. One year Mama signed me up for "Expression." For fifty cents, a woman would teach us to recite children's poems and once or twice a year, we had a recital where I would get a chance to show my skill in performing. Those expression lessons are part of the reason that I never had a fear of public speaking. I was always assertive, but the expression classes gave me poise and self-assurance in front of an audience.

My father's name was Cecil Willis. I named my firstborn, Cecile, after him. He was a great raconteur and by that I do not mean he just told great stories; he told great dirty jokes. Daddy thought I was the best thing that ever happened to him and he took me everywhere. He would show me off where he worked at Southwestern Drug. He was very proud of me and it was his love and support that gave me the self-confidence to do the things that I have done in my life. Thanks to him, I was in college before I found out I was not the smartest thing on the planet.

During World War II, my father was drafted and he joined the Navy. After a few months, my mother decided we should move to San Diego, where he was stationed. In those days, women did not just hop into their cars with children and drive cross-country, but you could not tell that to my mother. She filled the car with provisions and we were on our way. We took along Mama's second cousin, Fannabee Fryer, to help with the driving.

It took a long time and it was sooo hot. In those days cars were not air-conditioned. I did not think it could get hotter than Texas, but it was terrible driving across the desert. I do not know where we slept because my mother would not have spent the money to sleep in a hotel, and motels were not that common.

When we arrived, we had to live in a basement room of someone's house until we found an apartment. That apartment was so small I had to get up and fold my sleeping cot every morning so my father could get through the living room. I guess for that reason, it was good that he was home only on weekends.

My mother was a skilled seamstress. We put a sign in the window that said ALTERATIONS AND DRESSMAKING. While she was not flooded with customers, she earned enough extra money to pay the bills. I was in the eighth grade. I went to Theodore Roosevelt Junior High, which was so far across town that I had to take a bus to a streetcar that would take me there. To me, San Diego was exotic. For the first time, I attended school with kids from different backgrounds. There was Helen Castenada, Josephine Giacalone. There were African-American kids, Italian kids, Greek, and Hispanic. Living in San Diego opened my eyes. After that, I could never understand racial prejudice.