The Baby’s Cross- is a story about Gale, a young girl who fought many obstacles in her life to survive.

She was born prematurely and with the help of a neighbor, she survived.  At age two, a fall down the stairs was to take her life in a direction that seemed almost impossible to endure at the time.

The losses in her life were many; these losses included her Mom, many other family members, and the loss of a normal childhood.

Hospitalized for twelve years from the age of three to fifteen; Gale feels

that the experiences she had were ones that shaped her life into one of determination, compassion, faith love and accomplishments.

The story includes many miracles that she has experienced in her lifetime. These miracles have reinforced her spiritual beliefs.  The real story behind

Gales fall down the stairs became clear to her while she was driving along the highway.

This is a true story of a young girls struggle to stay alive, it will touch the hearts of the reader.

C. Gale Perkins was born in Boston.  She spent twelve years in Lakeville State Sanatorium in Massachusetts from age three to fifteen.  She is proud of being a survivor and a person with a strong faith.  She has three children and several grandchildren.  She worked as director of occupational therapy in a private hospital for twenty-six years.  She loves people and flowers.   She has performed as a professional clown for several years; and loves it.

She lives in Groveland, Massachusetts in the summer and Tarpon Springs, Florida in the winter. She says she has the better of two worlds.  Her late husband encouraged her to write her life story, she says, “I have kept my promise to him.”

I look out of my bed through big brown eyes, framed by my pitch- black hair.  My tiny body encased in a plaster cast from my neck to my knees as I lie on my stomach, perched on my elbows. This is the view of the world that I will experience for the next twelve years.

Did I say bed?   It was a metal crib with bars on all sides.  I was tied in this crib with an apron strap, which had four ties on each side tied to the side bars of the crib and two ties that tied around my neck and then to the front bars of the crib.   I could not get out if I wanted to only four years old, unable to run and play. The look on my face was one of determination; telling the world that I could tackle anything that was to come.

You could see in my   large brown eyes the questions that were deep in my heart. How did I get here? What happened to me? Why was I unable to run and play like other children?  Why isn’t my mother here? I really need her here with me.  The plaster cast was so heavy; my elbows chafed from rubbing against the sheets. 

I would have a visitor each month; a tall thin woman, she was my Aunty Eunice, my Mother’s sister. I asked her where my mother was and she said, “She is very sick”.  Aunty Eunice said that she would visit my mother following her visits with me and would tell her all about me.  She told me I had Mom’s big brown eyes and her sweet singing voice.   She was like a messenger   who would bring good news back and forth.   I asked her if she would bring Mom someday when she got better. She promised she would. She would give me a big hug and when she would leave, I would cry.  I missed her when she left - she was so nice and smelled so good and would make me laugh, but most of all it was her hugs. I could not feel them too much on top of the plaster but I knew they would feel good.

The answer to all the questions that were in my mind were somewhat answered in the poem which is the title of my book, “The Baby’s Cross,” written by my Mom. The poem was written after one of the visits to me and then to my Mom, from Aunty Eunice, who had brought the message to her along with the picture.

THE BABY’S CROSS

Her big brown eyes twinkle roguishly.
(As they use to when she chased her cat.)
Oh dear, why did I think of that?

She asked for him today and wondered,
“Did her Saunders miss her while she was away?”

The kitten died but she never knew
The sorrows of childhood should be so few.

Yet-the cast extends from her sturdy shoulders to her knees
And, when one thinks of these, and many other things,
How joyously she laughs, how sweet she sings.

Then when her little story of her wants are done,
She whispers, earnestly, “some day I will run and run.
So far that nobody can catch me again.

With a sigh, your heavy heart whispers back-AMEN

By Marjorie-Logan-Wilson    to Gale 11/16/36
In memory of Eunice’s visit to My Darling Gale