Chapter 7

What she did to us next, was shocking, but at least she told us why!

"There are two different couples out there whose children will be still born," Woe said. "They are good friends to each other, and will live next door to each other their whole lives. I am going to answer their wishes. I am going to allow you remember your pasts. Remember, don't ever tell anyone about your pasts."

She filled in a few more details, and then was gone.

"Oh, my," Annette said, "I didn't remember my wish the last time, until I was sixty-two."

I said, "I always thought it was my wish."

"Well, you always said you wanted to repeat your life, and do things better."

"I think that came from reading too much."

Annette smiled at me and said, "Well it sounds like we will get a whole lifetime together, this go around."

I smiled back, and reached out to her. We kissed, and she lay down on the hospital bed, holding me. We fell asleep together.

I awoke to a feeling I seemed to remember from long ago. It was the washtub ringer again.

Oh, shit! I could feel the umbilical cord around my neck. I struggled and thrashed to get it off of my neck. My new mom was having contractions every minute or so. I was being pushed down the birth cannel and it was difficult to control my new arms. I finally got the umbilical cord over my head.

I was hoping I could now relax. I found I was mistaken. My head went through the vice-like opening. It was too bright, as my head came out. Damn! I forgot how uncomfortable this was. It's a good thing children don't have to remember the process of their birth.

The whack on my bottom came a moment later. I was handed off to a nurse, and whisked off for bathing and the like. More discomfort, was the only thing going though my mind. I was completely shocked when a bottle's nipple was stuck in my mouth.

'No!' my mind screamed. 'I don't want the fake stuff!'

Let me tell you, how they get a baby to drink this stuff, is beyond me. I would really rather have the real thing. I opened my eyes and saw Nurse Woe again.

She smiled at me, and said, "Hello, little Timmy Ford."

My eyes went wide with the recognition of the name. Ford, the Ford family! Wow! She really was going to make my life better. Right from the start.

'Oh no!' went though my mind next.

The thought hit me that I would never be able to own any car other than a Ford! Well, at least I liked the Mustang.

"Now I may have neglected to tell you a few minor points. One point is that this is 1955, and the other is that you will be three days older than Annette, this time. Now just relax and remember not to talk until you're at least six months old," Woe said, and rocked me to sleep.

Three days later, nurse Woe laid a newborn Annette in the crib with me. I looked over, and managed to get my hand to take hers. I looked at her closely; she had flaming red hair, this time. It made me wonder what I would look like. She looked at me, and I could see the smile form on her face.

I went home to my new house on Grosse Island. It was an exclusive place to live in the fifties, and would remain so for all my life if my memory served me correctly. The island was actually in the middle of the Detroit River. Detroit was going to be my back yard as I grew up in this life. Oh well, it could be worse. It also came to me as a shock that I had a nanny. I mean, I was sure my new parents were going to love me, but a nanny? I guessed I would just have to get used to it.

Being so young I had no control over how long I spent in any one spot. Sometimes I would get to be in the same room as Annette was, other times not. My parents went to an endless stream of parties, it seemed to me. The life of the rich and affluent. I even remember my new dad grumbling around the house about the damned unions. It brought a smile to my face. My first life, my dad had been a union member. It occurred to me how ironic this situation was. My first dad had worked for the competition. He was a GM man. Life can be funny sometimes.

My parents and Annette's new parents were very good friends. By the time we reached three months of age, I started to see Annette more and more. Annette's new dad was a cardiologist, though, so both sets of parents were in their early thirty's before we came along. It was odd not having any memory of them. I didn't know what to expect would happen. The first time Annette and I were laid down in the same crib, our hands clutched each other's. My Nanny must have gone to get the parents because before anyone could say jackrabbit, the four parents were looking in on us.

The mothers thought it was so sweet that three-month-old babies were holding hands. One even wondered aloud if we would marry each other some day. Annette made gargling laughing sounds. I grinned at the idea. They returned to their private party, I think they were playing cards, as I remember hearing the word Gin a few times. It was either that or they liked to drink gin. The problem came when Annette and I were separated, this time. Annette bawled like a baby.

'Well, she is a baby, ' I thought, 'and then again, so am I!'

So I joined in. The nannies quickly figured out that if we were close to each other, neither of us would cry. They also fingered out that if they promised us we could play together the next day, that we would calm down.

Trust me when I say the parents noticed this! Annette's nanny would bring her over to the private playground my parents had set up in our back yard. We played together all the time, and in the summer months we learned to walk. I think the fact that we started to kiss each other good-bye was the clincher. Somehow, the two sets of parents decided that we were meant for each other. The winter months were spent at each other's house, playing in lavishly provided for toy-rooms. Now don't get me wrong, it was lots of fun, pretending to be a kid. But the toys did not have the meaning to either one of us that they might have had; it was us having each other, that mattered.

When we started school, we both went to a private school on the island. Not only was it an old fashioned one-room schoolhouse, it was run like a one-room schoolhouse. There were not a lot of kids on the island, and the ones that were there, were definitely of the privileged class. The school was a dream to Annette and me. The very low number of students that attended there assured that the teachers could give each child the maximum attention possible. It quickly became apparent to them that Annette and I were doing third grade work, halfway though first grade. I can tell you we had some proud parents. They never suspected anything, because the school was renowned for producing prodigies at the time.

Mrs. Hancock was the happiest of people to work with. We were both her pets... teacher's pets, that is. By the end of the first year, she thought she was a miracle worker. She had us doing sixth grade work by the time we were seven years old, and she knew we understood it. She even put up with us holding hands under the table. I think she thought it was cute. Our second year with her, we blew her away. There was no doubt in her mind that we were smart kids. She arranged for us to take the Iowa basic skills test, very early in life. We both aced it, and our teacher received glowing recommendations from our parents. Our nannies also disappeared that year. Our parents didn't think we needed them anymore. The maid could see us to and from school, and the like.

At eight years old, the two of us were treated to a private tutor. Professor Bumpkin, retired from Michigan State University, had moved to the island. He had been the dean of students for many years, and was fascinated when he learned of us. He agreed to instruct us and help 'mold our small young and impressionable minds'. If he only knew how much the two of us were holding back! Annette told me she thought he suffered from a superiority complex. We had to take it slow and pretend he was actually teaching us new things. We aced every exam he gave us over the next two years. Finally he had a talk with our parents. He said that the best thing to do, would be for us to take college classes, and get credit for them. He pulled some strings at State, and we found ourselves with a caretaker and house, in downtown East Lansing. Our class schedule the first year was light, at only fifteen credit hours each. At nine years of age, we needed chaperones around the campus; so a few students were soon found, who wanted to make some extra money. They were shocked at receiving full scholarships from the Ford Foundation.

The only difference in our class schedules, was that I seemed to be taking business classes, and Annette seemed to be pre-med. Well, that didn't shock us. After all, our parents wishes for us, 'just happened' to coincide with our interests in our prior life. Awfully devilish of Nurse Woe, wouldn't you say?