Paul McLane Conway was the name that Mayme McLane gave her tiny baby boy born eight months after she buried her husband with pneumonia. She was so surprised when she told her mother that she hadn't had her you-know-what since the funeral and Dr. Lornsdorf confirmed that she had a baby in her tummy, which he only patted gently. Of course, Mayme moved back into her mother's house during her confinement until two months after her son was born when she went to work in a factory, sewing five-and-a-half days a week from seven a.m. to five p.m. and noon on Saturday.

The most important day of my life must have been the day that I married Paul McLane Conway in St. Matthews Church at Connecticutt and Rhode Island Avenues in WAshington, DC. It was on the Altar of Our Lady in the big cathedral where he had sung in the choir for over ten years. All his family and mine were there with a few of our friends, about fifty people in all. It was two days after Christmas, December 27, 1958, with all the church decorated in wreaths and poinsettias. The reception was at the President's Club.

On January 15 in 1956, my graduating class marched down the hall at McKinley Tech High School at Second and T Streets, NE, where I had finished a trip from Emery Elementary to Langley Junior High and the end of a huge square to Tech, but I had already worked for a week in the Marriage License Bureau as a Deputy Clerk. My best friend Norma was moving up in the courthouse and introduced me to the Clerk of hte District Court to apply for her old job. Harry Hull accepted my application, and I went to work the next week, even before my graduation.

Real Estate was up and down when we tried to sell our house of 25 years on Chestnut Street in Chevy Chase. First it dived when we listed the house, then there was a riot in DC in '74 and no bank would offer a mortgage for homes. There were army men stationed at Chevy Chase Circle with machine guns. We gave up moving for another year. Finally, a house sold on our block, so we tried again and succeeded in March 1976 to sell our four-bedroom, three-bath house for a seven-bedroom, five-bath home one block from school with friends of ours in the neighborhood.

In 1955, my second and third year of nursing training, we did a three-month rotation called Public Health. We visited homes of patients near St. Agnes Hospital who needed to be seen for one month, then went out with a nurse from Baltimore County Public Health for a month into the Public Housing in high-rise building. She had certain days to see patients in clinics and three days to walk the streets making home visits. We wore blue uniforms and were identified quickly as visiting nurses who walked fast and didn't answer any questions-- one older black woman and one young white girl.