The mid 50s was the time of the polio epidemic in the United States. We had just left Port Arthur, Texas, where my friend Doug had polio and was in a wheelchair. His father was a doctor, but Doug didn't get vaccinated in time.
Polio didn't appear to be a concern in Europe, but my parents were so worried about it that they had my uncle Abbey send them polio vaccine. He worked for Lederle, a division of American Cyanamide, who made the vaccine. I remember it came by special messenger and apparently it cost a fortune to have it delivered from Boston to Normandy. It had to be kept refrigerated and my sister and I were threatened with death if we even touched the container.
My friend Catherine's dad, Dr. Villeneuve, came over one night to administer the shots. I wasn't thrilled but I certainly wasn't going to let him see me cry. He knew how tough I was. But my sister... She took off when he was about to give her the shot and my mother had to chase her around the dining room table. By the time she caught her, my sister was screaming bloody murder so Dr. Villeneuve didn't even try to be gentle. I thought it was kind of funny.
