About this time in my life, I was somewhere between two and three years old. In fact, my first memory was being scared by curtains blowing in my room at night. Dad was a military doctor with the Army, maybe two years after I was born, when he was stationed in Washington DC at Walter Reed Hospital.

I was attached to a stuffed elephant named Dumbo that I never let out of my sight. My mom, dad and I were walking alongside the reflective pool in front of the Washington Monument, when I accidentally dropped Dumbo into the water just out of reach of my Dad. I went into a hysterical rage thinking my elephant was going to drown.

Dad, embarrassed by my loud crying, checked to see if anyone was watching us. Knowing the wading in the reflective pool was strictly forbidden, he took off his shoes and socks, then quickly waded into the pool to rescue Dumbo. 

My Mom kept that elephant for many years, tattered with stuffing trying to leak out, and showed it to me one day when I was in college. I was not interested at the time but would very much like to have it today to show to my kids. I do not remember what I did with it when after mother showed it to me. I may have given it to my daughter.