This is the story of an ordinary family in Kansas City in the year 1942.  The father, my father, had just earned part ownership in a small, but successful manufacturing company.  The mother, my mother, took care of the home and cared for their energetic and growing family.  My father and my mother had 5 sons at the time of this story—George, age 9, Bill, age 7, Richard, age 5, Larry, age 4, and Carl. That was me.  I was just 1 year old.  My dad traveled a lot, handling sales for the company.  So, my mother was the one who was there when polio became a permanent part of my family.

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