Viewing page 111 of 117

This transcription has been completed. Contact us with corrections.

To My Little Daughter

When the physician announced that you were a little girl baby I groaned ruefully, "My poor husband!" and the nurse sensing a masculine disappointment smiled mischievously and hastened to tell him. When I questioned her later, she said, "He took it pretty well, and said that he guessed he could love a little girl as much as a little boy." I too was disappointed, but not for the same reason as your father. He was looking for a son who would bear his name and follow in his own scientific footsteps.

On the other hand I was recalling [[strikethrough]] swiftly and [[/strikethrough]] with a swift pang what old Mary Babb used to say, "I pity any girl child who is born into this world." Old Mary had fought for her livelihood to a sturdy old age, and knew whereof she spoke. [[strikethrough]] The handicap of being a woman whether one attempts to earn a living or make a career for oneself is comparable to the handicap of being a negro or a Jew in entering high society, no matter what the , the fact remains is a woman remains a woman in traditional sense. [[/strikethrough]]

As a child I well remember the birth of my brother, the first boy in the family. My own reaction to the family fuss was exposed shortly, "Take him away." and after a time the Lord saw fit to do so. My father, a [[strikethrough]] small [[/strikethrough]] quick masterly man of short stature and of correspondingly [[strikethrough]] quick [[/strikethrough]] short temper, had little understanding of the shy, sensitive repressed little girl that was left to him, who fearful of his sternness betrayed little of her real self in his company. He saw her only as a girl from whom he exacted strict obedience and who was to be taught to sew and cook and stay within the home. It