Page 12 - Winterling's Chasing the Wind

My father went on to attend Rutgers University before meeting my mother Ruth
Cranmer. She grew up on a family farm in southern Jersey. The Cranmers had come
from England in the early 19th century, eventually settling in Mayetta. Ruth was one of
Frank and Mary Cranmer’s four children. She attended Normal School to become an
elementary teacher, similar to her brother, Clinton, and sister, Hazel. Upon marrying
my father, she moved into my grandfather Winterling’s boarding house where my
brother, Richard, and I were born.

My earliest notable experience was being told that as a bare-foot baby in diapers I
walked from our home a distance of twenty-five yards to my grandparent’s restaurant.
They were shocked to see me since there was snow covering the ground. My first
memory as a baby was being placed in my crib one day. I didn’t want to go to sleep. I
started crying and even cried harder as I saw my mother ignore me by walking out of
the room.

One side of the bedroom had a large window
facing heavily traveled US 9. After dark, I was
puzzled by the sight of strange "creatures"
moving across windows. I later learned that
these were shadows of trees and shrubs on the
curtains produced by the headlights of cars
passing by on the highway.

At the age of two, I was joined by baby brother
Richard. I couldn’t say “Richard”. All that I
could say was “Chee-Chee”. Being 21 months
older than him, I didn’t remember much of his
GEORGE & RICHARD WINTERLING
early childhood. I was always looking for things
to do. I had the curiosity of a cat and probably also more than one life.

One day I found my father’s safety razor in the bathroom. While playing with it and I
soon found that my thumb was colored red with blood. Another day as my father was
cutting grass with a scythe (a large long bladed grass-cutting tool), I got too close as my
father was mowing. The blade hit my cheek near the eye. Consequently, I had my first
trip to the doctor for stitches, thankful that it didn’t hit my eye.
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