My husband was in the Air Force and due to be discharged in about seven months when I discovered I was pregnant with our second child. This was in the 1960’s, and service men, at least two-stripe airmen, were practically poverty-stricken.

The Air Force doctor determined my due date to be July 1st. My husband’s separation date was June 15th. Light bulbs brightened in my brain, and I foresaw a monstrous hospital bill with no government coverage after the fifteenth. How is that for poor planning? Actually, there was no planning at all.

My pregnancy was an easy one, no nausea, minimum weight gain, no swollen ankles, and no heartburn. I had no complaints except for my due date. I worked part time for a State agency, and we managed to save a little, hoping we would not need it.

There was no ultrasound back then, so we did not have any idea of the gender of our expected arrival. We had a little boy and hoped for a girl this time, but all that really mattered was having a healthy baby.

I continued with my routine visits to the Base doctor, optimistically visualizing him to be the deliverer of our new offspring. At a few days over eight months, my co-workers gave me a lovely combination baby shower/going away party. They could not have realized how needed and how appreciated those baby gifts were.

At home with my little boy, who was two, I relished the free time I now had with him. Together, we readied a gifted white wicker bassinet, beautifully skirted with white lace. Little tee shirts and jumpsuit jammies were added to my collection of cloth diapers, “rubber” pants, and various hand-me-downs. I still worried about my due date being after my husband’s separation, but happiness in the present crowded it into a tiny corner of my mind.

As the warm days of June passed, I felt some twinges of false labor, but they never materialized into the real thing. I cleaned a lot and walked a lot, trying to hurry things up, but this baby was not to be hurried.

June 15th came and went, and my husband settled into his new job. On the evening of July 1st around 8 P.M., I was doing my ironing when I felt a gush of warm water run down my legs. Baby Erica was right on time, and Kent General was our destination.

My doctor had a new face, but we became well acquainted in the months that followed. I never had any problems. The payment plan we worked out took some juggling, but our beautiful blond-haired baby girl was priceless. An anticipated inconvenient birthday became one of the happiest days of our lives.

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Connieann wishes you all the very best!

A real controversy exists about who actually spoke the phrase, “Then let them eat cake.” Today, historians insist it was inaccurately attributed to Marie Antoinette, wife of Louis XVI, and that in reality it was uttered one hundred years earlier by Marie-Therese, wife of Louis XIV. Even this account is said by some historians to be distorted.

You may ask, “Why so much ado about cake?” At the time the saying became well known, it was purported to have been uttered during one of the famines that occurred in France during the reign of Louis XVI. When his wife was told people were suffering due to widespread bread shortages, the Queen Marie Antoinette was reported to have spoken the thoughtless words. The rest is history.

Those frivolous words added to Marie’s uncaring image of expensive tastes, and the populous was eager to attribute them to her. She was convicted of treason, and on October 16, 1793, she walked up the steps of the scaffold to the awaiting guillotine. According to history, she accidentally stepped on the foot of the executioner and spoke these last words, “Monsieur, I ask your pardon. I did not do it on purpose.”

As unbelievable as it seems, even today, thoughtless words can lead to tragedy. Remember the old adage, “stick and stones will break my bones, but words will never hurt me?” Words do hurt, and we see the results daily. With the increase of politics and politicians in the news now that the election draws nearer, we see people using their frustration and anger first and their minds last. Name-calling, threats, half-truths, all are words spoken in anger.

Not only politicians, but even our preachers have gotten into the act. The words of Gainesville Pastor Terry Jones made me cringe with embarrassment for my hometown as he espoused his anti-Islam philosophy on national television. Little did we realize how far-reaching his words would be. U.S troops were killed amid protests of his Quran burning threats.

Unlike Marie Antoinette, usually it is the innocent who pay for the thoughtless words of others. Think of the bullies in our schools, the tragedy of Columbine. Ridicule, jealousy, making fun of people who we think are not exactly like they should be can lead to irreversible damage to the victims of thoughtless words.

So, yes, I say there should be much ado about cake as it relates to the thoughtlessness with which we speak. A few simple words spoken in anger can snowball out of control. We must learn to think carefully before we speak because thoughtless words can do great harm. Voicing our opinions does not give us license to disrespect anyone. We must speak truthfully and courteously, and always be mindful of the repercussions of our words.


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