Your name is unique. Why were you named Benton Lanier?
I was an unexpected child as far as my dad was concerned (born 14 years after my brother, R.J.), and I was a ‘disappointment’ to my mother (who was hoping I would be her first girl after giving birth to 4 boys). She was married at 15 and gave birth to her boys at 16, 17, 19, & 23. I was born when she was 37.
She had always wanted to use her family name, Benton, which was her maiden name….thus, that became my first name. Daddy wanted to name me after one of his best friends, Lanier Forgason, who had roomed & boarded with them when he came to Wharton, Texas (I believe during that time he and Dad had worked for the railroad in Wharton)…thus, my middle name became Lanier….and I have always gone by that name, unless I’m at the doctor’s office….there I’m Benton. :))
One of my real joys in life was to name my eldest son after me, Benton Lanier Stevens, Jr. And, that’s where the name came from. (a little wordy, but…you asked, and this is the long version)
Mom and I have our traditions…you know when the phone rings on Saturday morning who it is and why!
You’ve talked forever about how people say you should write a book. I encouraged you to write a blog. Neither has been done. I saw an idea about a daughter emailing her mom a question every day. I thought it might be neat to do that as a dad and daughter. Are you game?
If so, here’s question #1.
What is the earliest childhood memory you have and who’s in it?
Love you ~ K.
I’m game…had a problem with the blog thing, but I like this idea (I think)
I remember that every night our mother would sit in her rocking chair reading the Houston Chronicle newspaper. Nancy & I could hardly wait until she got to the part of the paper she called the ‘funnies’. It was one or two pages of comic strips like Donald Duck, Lil’ Abner, Pop Eye, etc….& one night, as she was reading, a masked man with a gun stepped into the room and started pulling drawers out of the buffet after he told her he wanted money and she told him she didn’t have any….Mama took us both by the hand and fled out the front door running to our next door neighbors, the Kelly’s.
I remember Mr. Kelly grabbing his pistol and heading toward our house, as he shouted to his wife to call the police! What is etched in my memory is Mrs. Kelly screaming at the top of her lungs, “Kelllly–Kelllly! Come back, Kelly!”
Don’t know whatever happened to the robber.