Mary Carolyn Runyan Fuchs, (Would Have Been) 80 Years Old Today

Today is the date on which my mother was born, back in 1931. On the other two significant May birthdays in my immediate family – Jackson’s on the 7^th, and Diego’s on the 16^th – I discussed their birth stories. Both were first-hand accounts, with varying degrees of accuracy, but, generally speaking, both were the truth. I was not around for my late mother’s birth, obviously, but I thought it would make for an interesting exercise to write the story anyway…

Just two days after Memorial Day, and it is already feeling like August in Little Rock. I am grateful to have been transferred, a few months ago, to an office job that requires no travel and comes with an electric fan that cuts the heat some.

I believe the transfer may have been Mr. _______’s doing; he is one of the railroad’s Vice Presidents, and runs the Little Rock regional office. Mr. ________ is a kind, church-going man, and when I mentioned to him in passing that Hazel was in a family way a few months back, he became very interested, making a point to tell me the story of his first-born, a son named James, whose acquaintance I have made. He will be attending West Point in the fall and Mr. _________ is very proud, and rightly so.

Less than a month later, I received the letter offering me my current position of Assistant to the Director of Human Resources at the Rock Island Railroad’s Little Rock office. The day I was unpacking my things at my new desk, Mr. __________ happened to be meeting with the Director. He greeted me warmly, congratulating me on my new post, before I thought I detected a little wink, as if to say, “Glad I could do this for you, Herman.”

This morning I receive a telephone call before I can even take my hat off. It is from the maternity ward at St. Vincent’s Hospital. Hazel is doing well, and the baby should be arriving soon.

I head on down there as fast as my old Model T will take me, which is not very fast. I find my way to the maternity ward and am met by a colored nurse who pats my shoulder in a reassuring manner and lets me know everything is going “just as it ought to be.”

The seats nearest the electric fan have all been taken; they’re filled by nervous-looking men of around my age and general appearance. They nod at me, as I hang my hat and jacket. I have managed to sweat through my shirt. To cool off, I fan myself with an abandoned copy of the Gazette. I try reading a story about the new invention of something called a wind tunnel, which will allow scientists to test aircraft on the ground. I am interested – having been a navy man during the Great War – but I find it difficult to concentrate under the present set of circumstances.

I am napping when the same nurse calls my name. She leads me through a door I hadn’t noticed before, and down a bright corridor. We stand before a window and look at a room full of newborns in bassinets.

“Can you guess which one is yours?” she smiles.

“I don’t believe I can,” I answer in a way that makes her laugh so loud the babies seem to hear it through the glass of the window.

She points to one of the cribs, and I see my little girl, Mary Carolyn, for the first time. She is a thing of beauty – pink and sparkling clean. I close my eyes and thank the Lord for His blessing. Then I tap the glass, attempting to get Mary’s attention, all the while trying to imagine how much my world has been changed.