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Birthday Suit


      LIKE EVERY OTHER HUMAN on earth, I came into this world in the
buff. According to my brothers and sisters, I stayed that way
throughout much of my early childhood. For whatever reason, I
never liked to wear clothes when I was a boy, so I ran around our
farm buck nekkid. I guess I figured since God brought me into
this world in my birthday suit, I might as well wear it. Hey,
some people have it, and some people dont. Ive always had it,
Jack!

      When I was born on April 27, 1948, my parents, Merritt and James
Robertson, were living in a log cabin outside of Vivian,
Louisiana. The cabin was really rustic; we used an outhouse and
didnt even have hot water to take baths. I was the youngest of
five sons: Jimmy Frank was the oldest boy, followed by Harold,
Tommy, and Phil. I had an older sister, Judy, and then my younger
sister, Jan, came along a few years after I was born.

      Our log cabin sat on top of a hill and was surrounded by about
four hundred acres. Marvin and Irene Hobbs, Mommas brother-in-law
and sister, lived at the bottom of the hill. They had several
kids: Billy, Mack, Sally, and Darrell, who were our first
cousins. When Momma and Daddy played dominoes at the Hobbses
house, Jimmy Frank was put in charge of the younger kids. Our
cabin became a prison, and Jimmy Frank was the warden. Hed walk
outside the cabin, as if on patrol, making sure none of the
younger kids escaped, so we always called him the warden! We

younger kids escaped, so we always called him the warden! We
younger kids wanted to go to the Hobbses house to play with our
cousins, but Jimmy Frank was under strict orders to keep us
inside.

      There were only two windows in the cabin, and they were our
routes of escape. As the warden marched around the log cabin, one
of us captives would watch him through the cracks in the walls.
When he made his way around the right corner of the house, wed
all jump through the window and run down to the Hobbses place. At
least there werent any sirens when we made our getaway!

      My daddy started working in the oil industry when he was young,
first as a roughneck, then as a driller and tool pusher, and
eventually he became a drilling superintendent. It was really
hard work, but I never heard him complain about it. It was an
honest living, and even though we never had a lot of money, we
always had enough food to eat, which mostly came from the fields
and gardens on our farm. And with so many kids around, we were
never bored and always seemed to find something to keep us busy.



      When I was a little bit older, we left the log cabin and moved to
Dixie, Louisiana, which is about fourteen miles north of
Shreveport. We made the move because Momma suffered a nervous
breakdown and was diagnosed as manic-depressive. Living in Dixie
made it easier for her to get the treatment she needed; she spent
a lot of time in hospitals and the state mental institution. I



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