If You’ve Seen One Baby, You’ve Seen ’Em All.

Aunt Barbara gave birth to her second son, Preston, in the late sixties. She was living in Rapid City at the time, so was her mother, Jane. Jane wasn’t present at Preston’s birth, nor did she call when Barb returned to her husband, Larry, and first born son, Mark from Rapid City Regional.

Barb called her mother in between figuring out life with two children. No answer and before the answering machine. Barb did this for two weeks until she was able to load her two kids in the station wagon. She drove to her mother’s house. She put Mark in a stroller and carried Preston in her arms to her mother’s front door.

Barb knocked on the door for some time. The door opened with angst, Barb startled. Her mother stood before her. A lace bra adorned the outside of a mis-buttoned shirt. Her eyes squinted like someone who hadn’t seen the sun in weeks.

Barb held Preston in her arms and smiled.

“Meet Preston, mother.”

My grandmother pulled a cigarette from her cleavage, lit it and blew smoke in Barb’s face.

“If you’ve seen one baby, you’ve seen ’em all.”

My Grandmother Jane slurred these words to welcome her grandson to the world.

She was committed to the state psychiatric hospital in Yankton, a town across the state, east of the Missouri River. Her diagnosis- alcoholic psychosis.

Jane stayed there for weeks while Barb stayed in Rapid City to care for her young.