In 1845, when I was ten years old, there was an epidemic of measles in the town and it made a most alarming slaughter among the little people. There was a funeral almost daily, and the mothers of the town were nearly demented with fright. My mother was greatly troubled. She worried over Pamela and Henry and me, and took constant and extraordinary pains to keep us from coming into contact with the contagion. But upon reflection I believed that her judgment was at fault. It seemed to me that I could improve upon it if left to my own devices. I cannot remember now whether I was frightened about the measles or not, but I clearly remember that I grew very tired of the suspense I suffered on account of being continually under the threat of death. I remember that I got so weary of it and so anxious to have the matter settled one way or the other, and promptly, that this anxiety spoiled my days and my nights. I had no pleasure in them. I made up my mind to end this suspense and be done with it. Will Bowen was dangerously ill with the measles and I thought I would go down there and catch them (16 March 1906).My niece and her husband have asked me to be my grandnephew's Godparent! It has been many years since I have been asked to serve in this capacity, lots of young people don't practice religion, and so I am both pleased and flattered. I have been scrambling to secure the needed documentation. I think it will take place next weekend.
Friday, November 18, 2011
On FB, some "friends" have been worked up about this (I have remained silent, since I am a dissenter who escaped the mandated-at-that-time small pox vaccine as a child, and have learned to keep my mouth shut). But it reminded me: Here's a tidbit from Mark Twain that I've been meaning to share: