My mother hated Port Arthur. I liked it okay. I got to spend a lot of time outside, at least when we first moved there.
Then the polio epidemic hit, and it hit that area hard. Everyone was paranoid. In fact, our next door neighbor was a doctor and he had a son named Doug. Doug wore braces on his legs and used crutches because he had polio. I remember my parents talking about how awful it was for a doctor’s son to have it. What is it they say? The doctor’s son is the last to get the shot? It was so true in this case. I remember they also had a Boxer like our dog Velvet. I was never allowed to talk to Doug and I felt so sorry for him. Sometimes I would sneak a conversation over the fence. It was very sad, and I wasn't allowed to play outside anymore either.
We followed the progress of the Salk vaccine thanks to my Uncle Abbey who worked for a drug company. When it was finally approved, it was like a miracle. It was like we had been set free.
Interestingly, when we went to Normandy not long after that, we took some vaccine with us because it wasn't yet available in Europe. It stayed in the refrigerator until we were due for our immunizations.
"April 12th had almost become a national holiday: people observed moments of silence, rang bells, honked horns, blew factory whistles, fired salutes, kept their red lights red in brief periods of tribute, took the rest of the day off, closed their schools or convoked fervid assemblies therein, drank toasts, hugged children, attended church, smiled at strangers, and forgave enemies."