Something Tells Me It's All Happening At the Zoo

That's me walking behind the buggy

It's 1958 and the family is out on one of our excursions. This time Dad has taken us to the Brookfield Zoo. I never much liked the Brookfield Zoo because it was way too big for my little legs. It seemed like every exhibit was a mile from the last one. On this day Mom and Dad had dragged all six of their children along for the fun of smelling animal shit and peanuts. It was probably hot and Dad would never spring for sodas to cool us down. I just remember that every time we went to the zoo it was hot. Dad wouldn't buy us the sodas, but would buy a bag of peanuts or marshmallows that we would throw to the animals. Which makes me wonder, how many of those animals died from that perfectly healthy diet? Anyway, at that time we had a relatively new sister that Mom was pushing around in the buggy. She had been born in March so at six months she was ready for the zoo. The only problem with bringing an infant to the zoo is that babies like to eat at weird times. Like at two in the morning, four in the morning, six in the morning, or while strolling through the giraffe exhibit at the zoo. All I remember is Mom saying that she had to feed the baby right then and there. So she gathered us all together while she sat on one of the benches, ordered us to stand in a circle around her, and then she began to feed the baby. It was not anything that I hadn't seen before. Mom had started breast feeding the babies with my brother Gary, baby number five. I think she chose that over bottles and formula because of the convenience. She even had a brassier with a little trap door on it for quick and easy access. No fuss, no muss. Like I said, I'd seen it all before at home. But this time, in public. I was horrified. Remember, this was 1958. Women didn't do this in suburban Chicago. Nobody else was whipping out a breast at the zoo to feed a baby, other than the monkeys. All I can say is that Mom was always just a little bit ahead of her time.