"I don't know if she'll live." "She'll
never grow up." Those were some of the
words I heard when I was confined to the front room in our home in Trenton,
New Jersey, from October of 1905 until May of 1906. There was an eight-by-ten
inch quarantine card on the front door. Some people walking by the house
would cross over to the other side of the street after they read the sign.
I
was six years old and very sick with scarlet fever. Mother kept a basin of
carbolic acid water by the door of the front room and consistently washed
her
hands before and after visiting me so that there would be minimal
transmission of germs to the rest of the family. Remarkably, none of my other
brothers and sisters became ill. My father would affectionately rap on the
front window and throw me kisses. He owned a seafood and poultry shop in the
market downtown and, since he dealt with food, he wasn't permitted to come
home during the quarantine........
