I have to admit to myself and therefore also to you: I am a baby inside. I work in an office. I have no illusions. But after punching out, after uncinching that tie, after sliding those slacks down the length of my regrettably adult-length shaven legs, I am nothing, if not a baby. Call me and I mean it anytime you need a pudgy love-button like me.
You may see me in the street with a briefcase, but under my suit it’s just me and my nappy. My distress signal is a cry for hunger in the night. Wah! Like a lighted bat upon the wall, when I cry you’ll know it’s time to come and feed me. Just give me a call. I’ll be there in THE BABY MOBILE also known as “The Stroller,” a partially restored 1955 baby blue Nash Rambler. You will recognize it by its horn, which is also the cry of a baby.
You may think I do not count. That I do not belong here with a book full of heroes. But ask yourself, who else will save you, when you just need someone to need?
Bob Selcrosse grew up with his mother, selling books, in the Pacific Northwest. He is now working on a book about a book. It is based in the Pacific Northwest. The book is The Cabinet of Children.