String Bean, Buster, the Grumpy Gourmet and Other Personas: A Memoir

Introduction 

Memoirs have been around a long time, but during the late twentieth century memoir writing came into its own, so much so that the memoir genre has suffered and has been much maligned and criticized. There are memoirs of Hollywood personas, usually ghost-written. There are memoirs written by those with various mental illnesses such as schizophrenia and bipolar disorder. I’ve read numerous, often badly written memoirs, by authors with multiple personality (now known as dissociative identity disorder or DID), usually documenting therapeutic misadventures of the worst kind. Some of these are coauthored by the former DID author’s naive therapist. Of course, there are memoirs written by people without serious mental illnesses who survived childhoods filled with the most horrible and tawdry kinds of abuse imaginable. If memoirs were movie genre, these might qualify as action-adventure films. 
My favorite memoirs are usually written by folks with advanced degrees in English. These folks can write. Curiously, most well-written memoirs usually include something about the person’s spirituality. 
My memoir is none of these, so it’s unlikely to be a best-seller and possibly will be of greatest interest to my family and close friends. This memoir is filled with stories or little memoirs about significant episodes in my life, some happy, some sad, and some humorous. It recounts the highlights and summarizes precious memories from my almost seventy years. 
I have organized my memoir chronologically where possible, so the first seven chapters extend from my first memories through my career as a psychiatrist. The remaining chapters cover my hobbies, family, spirituality, and other momentous events in my life. 
Most people mentioned in this memoir are mentioned by first name only. In some cases first names have been changed and in some instances a few facts have been changed or omitted to respect an individual’s privacy. 
Although I have attempted to fact-check a few items, as in all memoirs, these are my memories. Other people involved in my memoirs may have different recollections of the same events. But, that is alright. We all have selective recall, shaped by our viewpoints, especially when events happened so long ago. 
So to you who chose to read this memoir, happy reading. Please enjoy and begin writing your own memoir. 

Before I Remember 

Since I have very few memories between birth and age four I consulted my baby book, Our Baby’s First Seven Years, so lovingly kept by my mother. 
My nine months in the womb were almost entirely spent in Bradenton Beach, Florida where my mother spent the winters while Dad served overseas during WWII. Just prior to my birth Mother flew back to Indianapolis where I was delivered at the William Coleman Hospital, whose building still stands on the Indiana University Medical Center campus. I was delivered by John F. Spahr, M.D., weighed in at six pounds and seven ounces, and measured 19 ¾ inches in length. My baby book contains my birth announcement telegram sent to my father in France by my grandfather Richman and includes a lock of hair from my first haircut. By age one month I had finally surpassed my birth weight by two ounces. In my baby book I even found my infant formula provided by the Indiana University Medical Center. 
Shortly after my birth I was driven to my Grandmother Coons’ farm near New Market, in Montgomery County Indiana. Mother lay on the floor with me in the back of the car while my brother Steve watched over back of the front seat. We remained at the farm for two months, and then spent a couple of weeks at the home of Grandma and Grandpa Richman in Columbus, Indiana before flying to Florida. I wish I could recall my first airplane flight! 
Mother, Steve, and I remained in Bradenton Beach till my father returned from WWII when I was 8 months old. Our family returned home to Riverview Drive two months later after Dad enjoyed a well-deserved vacation. 
I started eating from a spoon at three and a half months, drank from a cup at seven months, and was feeding myself at 12 months…probably with my hands! I started canned vegetable baby food at three and a half months, canned fruits at five and six months, and pureed meats at nine months. I finally conquered the use of a fork at three years of age. 
Reportedly my first words were Ma-ma and Da-da at 12 months. I had a “scare” at bowel training at two years and “back-slid.” I was probably scared at dropping through the toilet seat hole! 
Although I was an expert like most kids at taking off my clothes, it wasn’t until I was about four years old that I could completely dress myself. I do recall that tying shoelaces was a real chore for me. I was compulsively clean and was washing myself and putting my toys away at three years. I remember getting bathed in the kitchen sink when we lived on Riverview Drive in Indianapolis. 
My first haircut at one year was by Mr. Clark at Clark’s Barber Shop in the Broad Ripple section of Indianapolis. Although I don’t recall this first haircut, I do recall that I was afraid of sitting on the very high board which was placed over the barber chair’s arms. I was probably two years of age. 
My first neighborhood playmate was Johnny. Later playmates included Douglas, Rodney, Lee, Scott and Janice. My favorite activities by age six or seven included playing cowboys and Indians, riding my trike, playing with blocks and Dinky Toy cars, and climbing trees. 
I was a religiously educated kid and my first prayers were “Now I lay me down to sleep,” and “Jesus tender shepherd hear me.” I knew the Lord’s Prayer by age three and a half and started attending Sunday school at the First Presbyterian Church in Indianapolis at age four. 
I had my share of childhood illnesses brought home to me from school by my dear brother Steve. These included mumps, chickenpox and measles. I have vague memories of having had the chickenpox. 
I recall that my first “doll” (now known as a transitional object in psychoanalytic terms) was a white stuffed doggy which I carried everywhere. The first birthday that I recall was age four when I received a chain-drive bicycle with training wheels. Boy was I proud of graduating from my tricycle! I finally learned to ride without the training wheels when I was age six or seven when we lived in Sherwood Village. Another great accomplishment!