My Family, My Story

My mom, Dorothy Stevens, and my dad, Earl Price, started dating when they were teenagers. When my dad was a child, he had come down with rheumatic fever, and it gave him an enlarged heart. The doctors told his parents that with the enlarged heart, he might have major problems; as he grew up, his heart might not be able to sustain his adult body. This was bad news for them. They asked the doctor what was going to happen. The doctor was quiet for a minute, and then he said that their son most likely would not see his teen years; at most, he might live to age sixteen. As I was told, as Earl grew up, he was told about his heart and that it could stop at any time. They did not have the medicine that they have today. So as he approached his teenage years, he was careful not to stress his heart. But he showed no signs of a problem when he was seventeen or eighteen years of age.

My mom moved here from Maine with her parents, a brother, and two sisters. She was raised on Shelter Island during her teenage years. When they were seventeen years old, they started dating but held back due to his heart. When my mom and dad grew older, he told her he was on borrowed time. My mom knew what he meant; she didn’t want to understand, but she did. My mom had a cousin who lived in California, and she went to live with her for a while. She received only one letter from Earl; after responding to his letter, she never received another one. So she felt he was signaling, “I can’t do this to you,” and was letting her go.

Then she met a man in California, and they decided to get married. She told me she still thought of Earl often, hoping he was still okay. A year went by, and things didn’t work out with her marriage, so they divorced. They had a child together, and after the divorce was finalized, my mom returned to Shelter Island with her baby daughter. My oldest sister’s name will not be used in this story, for I never want to say her name ever again as long as I live. She hurt me not once but three times. I’m glad she lives far away; I never want to see her again. She will be referred to as “my sister.” The last time I met her at a funeral, I approached her to reconcile, but she was not responsive to mending our relationship.

When my mom was away, her friends from Shelter Island kept her updated about Earl’s health. Upon returning to the Island, she soon encountered Earl. He hugged her tightly and expressed how much he missed her. Tearfully, my mom told him she thought he had stopped caring since he ceased writing. He apologized, explaining his struggle with dyslexia and the difficulty of expressing his feelings through another’s hand in writing. Additionally, he mentioned hearing about her impending marriage and chose not to intervene.

Afterward, they rekindled their relationship and eventually married. They raised my mom’s daughter from her previous marriage together, with Earl happily adopting her as his own. By this time, she was a year old. Later, my brother Norman and I were born; my name is Debbie. My dad’s health concerns made him anxious about the future, especially with three children in the picture. But life went on. They made wise financial decisions, such as insuring their mortgage, in case anything happened to either of them.

Years later, my dad suggested taking a family photo. That Easter, they dressed us in our finest clothes and visited a photographer. It remains the only photo of me as a young girl, as they didn’t have the means for frequent photographs then. My mom once mentioned I wasn’t very photogenic as a baby but grew into my looks as I aged. This photo, taken in early April of 1961, shows me at three and a half years old, seated on my mom’s lap.