I was born in the Rotunda Hospital on June 5th, 1932.
When I was a baby my mother noticed that something was wrong whit me, when I was six months old I could not sit upright without pillows and I was 1 year old it was the same, So she seekeed for medical advice.
My mother Refused to belive that i was an imbecile. She knew that there was nothing wrong with my mind, just my body. My mother was determanind to treat me on the same plane was my brothers and sisters.
You're son is a interesting but hopeless case, he is an imbecile.
I could make no sign that I had understood her. Her face was bent over mine, hopefully. Suddenly my hand queer hand reached out and grasped one of her curls. then she turned away from my curious stare and left the room crying.
Did you like it, Chris? Did you like the monkeys and all the lovely flowers?
Nod your head yes, like a good boy.
It was the afternoon of a cold, gray December day. The streets outside glistened with snow.the wind howled dismally. inside, all my family were gethered around the big kitchen fire that lit up the little room with warm glow.
That day, my left foot, apparently on its own volition, reached out and very impolitely took the chalk out of my sister's hand. she told me to write the letter "A" but I couldnt. I gave it a try, on the third time that I tried I drew the letter "A" I look up and saw that my mother was in tears.