"This one's an artist!"

My continuing family saga

1967 was the year of Canada's 100th Birthday

...it was the year my brother Clint joined the Royal Canadian Navy,
the year my sister Ann's friend Maria started to look at Clint with a twinkle in her eye
...not to mention that it was also the year I left home for the third and final time.

And then...
in 1968, my family grew!

The expectant father was beside himself with fear. Anything could (and often did) happen to women giving birth in the 1960s.
He was aghast!

My parents were planning their retirement, and soon there would be an addition to our family.
Mom was thrilled. She referred to the baby as Robbie even before he was born, but Dad would storm out of the house saying, "I don't know anyone who's having a baby!"
Poor Dad.

White Rock, British Columbia

He couldn't contemplate life without his sweetheart.
My mother was soon taken from the oceanfront suburb of White Rock to Vancouver General Hospital for strict observation, and stayed there until it was judged safe for a caesarean-section.
She thrived, and survived...and so did my new little brother: Robert Edward Davies, born March 7, 1968.
I was living in the city, and had to pass near the hospital on my way home from work. I'd stop most days to visit Mom in the most-difficult-pregnancies ward: a bright, warm, sunny room housing three young women—and my mother.
They were all there for quite a while, under the strict observation of multiple nurses and doctors, for a variety of reasons...and no wonder: one of the young women had triplets. Triplets! She was my age, triplets the same age as my new brother. I often thought of her as Rob was growing up: three infants, three toddlers, three teens...my mind boggled.
Dad was happy to turn his attention to new-fatherhood once he knew Mom was healthy and happy. Some of their friends, however, asked what would become of their retirement.
"We'll take him with us," he replied.
Fast forward to Robbie sitting in a high chair at the age of two. He started walking very early because he had so little weight to carry, but still used a high chair. He was very bright: easily recognizing the sounds of our parents' favourite musicians. His favourite was Louis Armstrong.

San Felipe, where Mom, Dad and
Rob wintered for many years

One day, Mom stepped out of the room for some reason, and quickly returned, but not before that little guy had turned himself around in his high chair, taken a piece of chalk in his hand and, along the bottom of her grocery-list blackboard, made a series of straight vertical lines about an inch high.
Mom was more amazed than worried. Sure, he hadn't turned around in his chair before, and he certainly hadn't tried to use a piece of chalk, but...
"What's that, Robbie?" Mom asked.
"Grass," he replied.
Mom phoned Dad at the family printing shop. "Bring paper," she said. "This one's an artist."
And Rob Davies was, indeed, an artist, and so he has been ever since: in kindergarten in our parents' chosen winter home of San Felipe, on Mexico's Baja Peninsula; in school in White Rock, BC; in art school in Vancouver, BC; at work in Vancouver, California and Germany, and now with his partners at Atomic Cartoons in Vancouver, B.C.

Rob, younger then than now

Atomic's signature cartoon is Atomic Betty. Betty was a young schoolgirl with red hair and superpowers, who lived in Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan, and fought evil whenever necessary.

POSTING FOR

LADY FI'S MARVELLOUS MEME

OUR WORLD TUESDAY