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WACO           122
There was my own dear Sam, with his wonderful smile. The smile like the one he had given me when George lay bleeding in the hospital with the monoplane WACO-Cootie fog incurred injuries. This almost skeletal Sam with a smile and eyes from a spirit still unlicked.
The baby was brought in, Sam admitted she was a lovely baby but insisted rather on telling Buddie's reactions when [[crossed out]] the word [[/crossed out]] the word came, "nine pound baby girl." Sam lying dressed in living room on couch, Bud with his erector set. When the phone rang, Bud quickly put it away and sat as close to Sam as he could. When he heard "a nine pound baby girl" he hurt his finger, jumped around with it in his mouth, saying happily, "That's just what I wanted, that's just what I wanted." Sam said, "it tickled me how he was going to be right there when the "bus left." During this recital, Clayt had stepped over to the bed with the baby in my arms, looked at the perfect little fingers with little perfect nails. The knuckles showed their markings clearly and Clayt out of the side of his mouth asked anxiously, "Are they meant to look like that?" this was opportune, as I was getting weak and this bachelor question made me chuckle.
Sam was wheeled out, gripped y hand, we both winked to keep from screaming at the necessary casualness of it all. My fever zoomed. I wanted my husband, my baby's father, to know how I felt, to comfort me to show me affectionate reward.
Sam seemed to improve, able to be outdoors in the wheelchair. Buddie had learned how to ride his two wheel bike which he demonstrated outside the hospital where I could see him from my bed.
Clayt's father was very ill, the request made of me to put him in our upstairs bedroom with bath, same nurse. I could not refuse this dear elderly friend Mr. Brukner Sr. of mine now since 1925, so I said all right. I knew our