A beginning..

Well.... where does one begin?
I am starting this upon the recommendation of my sister who 'blogs', and a dear old friend and former Uni Prof. who thinks the very unusual curve life had thrown me at a very young age, would be helpful to others who have suffered or agonized with a similar situation, not knowing what was really happening to their life.
She (sister) thinks I've have just had an interesting life, however.
And I have (I suppose)...except she mostly knows only about the happy parts. There was much sadness and violence in it, from an early age. That she was completely unaware of this was a complete mystery to me. I found this out only in recently, when we were up alone one night late, talking at a family Christmas gathering. Where was she all those years??
Anyway, maybe the first entry should include something which very much includes her and is humorous to me.
I was born on the Canadian Prairies in June 1,1950.
It was a typically breathless summer day. Searing heat and not even a whisper of a breeze. One of those days that huge charcoal thunder clouds often boil in and produce unparalleled electrical storms, with torrential downpours, followed by those glorious rainbows that stretch from horizon to horizon on a flat table top! I think one only sees those rainbows on the Prairies?! Not this day though. A weather disturbance blew in something even more sinister. Something that was to become the most terrible wind and dust storm in memory for most. Story has it "the sky became black as night and one could barely see the buildings across the street"!
"Thanks", I thought, every time I was nearby and that story was related ...it sounded ominous to me, like the Anti-Christ had just ascended..descended...or whatever!
I guess my sister believed he had too!? Especially when she found out Mom had produced a baby brother! She packed her worldly belongings, her doll, pocket full of cookies and was gone (just a guess, she was five years old on the date of my debut)! They did come across her in good time however, plunked in the middle of a wheat field outside of town. That was the beginning of me and a 'beautiful' relationship between myself and the 'woman' who would not fully except me in her life until I became considerably larger than she. That happened when I reached about 10 years of age, when she could no longer hold me down and beat me!
Back to the birth and dust storm...Dad had figured under the circumstances it was all most appropriate to name me 'Dusty' (yes, seriously), which probably endeared me to her even less!
Of course he lost the mighty name struggle with my Mother, and finally gave in, opting for a more conventional name of the times. Thus, I never did hear anyone call out to me, "Dusty, time for dinner"!