Georgie-Porgie

I, Georgia Bramwell, was born on August 7, the fourth child, third daughter of Glen Paul and Frances Bramwell, in the old Harrison Memorial Hospital on Marion Avenue in Bremerton, Kitsap County, Washington. My dad always introduced me as “#4”.

In those days, mothers were completely knocked out, so my mother didn’t know what she’d had until she came out of the anesthesia. She stayed in the hospital for two weeks.

I know very little about my childhood, except that I walked very late (but I’ve been slow and late my whole life), and supposedly I was a very sweet-tempered child.

When I was about 4 we moved out of Navy project housing and into a large 3-story white brick house on Kitsap Lake. Three of us, my younger sisters and I, slept in a double bed in a nook in what was called the “piano room”. When we outgrew that, we each got our own section of the large upstairs bedroom where we kept each other awake late into the night every night.

One day I was playing with my two little sisters on the dock, or, more correctly, the boat, which we weren’t supposed to do. My youngest sister fell into the water. We were too little to get her out. It took an eternity for my little legs to run all the way up the hill to the house. When I finally found my mother she was on a long distance call. I finally broke through all the shushes to tell what happened. I followed my mother down to the lake, at a much faster pace than going up, and watched her jump into the water to rescue my sister. My other sister was still just sitting on the bow of the boat, and the water was only about a foot deep, but, what can I say?—we were little and dumb. We took my dripping wet sister to my dad (the doctor)’s office where they pumped her stomach and she survived. Whew!

When I was 5, Kindergarten wasn’t part of the school system, but my mother, when she had time, drove me to a dark little house in the woods where someone was teaching kindergarten.

I was baptized at 8 into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, but several months after my birthday. A new chapel was being built and I wanted to be the first one baptized there, but my mother was impatient to get me dunked, so I was the last one baptized at the old YMCA and my best friend got to be the first one in the new church. No one in my family came to my baptism.

I was considered kind of a sickly child, though I never had any serious illnesses. I had measles, maybe mumps, but I never had chicken pox nor had my tonsils taken out. I just didn’t feel well alot. It was probably psychological, but when I was in junior high I was diagnosed with a structural stomach problem that has been a small “thorn in my side” all my life. I had to quit the orchestra in 8th grade because playing a clarinet caused a constant sore throat, something I’m still prone to. Thankfully, I can’t sing for very long.

I followed three illustrious siblings into high school where they were student officers, team captains, cheerleaders, drill teamers, etc., but I laid very low and kept quiet. My senior year I was elected president of the biggest club in school, the one everyone could join. I was shocked! When I went to talk to the principal, he was shocked! “How can you be a Bramwell and I not know you!”

This late-bloomer was just beginning to bloom. During that time I was in charge of my high school’s Homecoming. I was Ward Chorister, Ward Dance Director, an assistant to the adult leaders at Girls Camp, and directed a Road Show. It was all a great learning experience for this reluctant novice.

And I hadn’t even left home yet.