This is the story of an ordinary family in Kansas City in the year 1942. The father, my father, had just earned part ownership in a small, but successful manufacturing company. The mother, my mother, took care of the home and cared for their energetic and growing family. My father and my mother had 5 sons at the time of this story—George, age 9, Bill, age 7, Richard, age 5, Larry, age 4, and Carl. That was me. I was just 1 year old. My dad traveled a lot, handling sales for the company. So, my mother was the one who was there when polio became a permanent part of my family.