Musing on the “Ides” of September, my thoughts returned to a magical sequence of events with international repercussions, all linked to Conroe’s old Montgomery County Hospital.
Our story begins on the night of Sept. 15, 1966, the date marking the birth of my daughter, Rosanna Leigh Montgomery. This was during my residence in Norman, Oklahoma where I was finishing graduate work for the PhD at the University of Oklahoma.
The trans-earthly tone took root that evening as I drove my wife, Beverly, to the hospital, for, in the excitement of that premature birth event, I mistakenly went first to the mental hospital, before locating the correct facility. Having only a year before lost premature twin boys, the birth of Rosanna brought special thrills. However, premonitions of coming paranormal mysteries engaged my mind.
Three months later, we learned that my grandfather, Lee Montgomery, for whom Rosanna was named, was on his death-bed at the Montgomery County Hospital. With the beginning of Christmas break we drove to that facility where I received permission to take my 3-month-old daughter to his room. As I held Rosanna over him, she gave a masterful performance, giggling with glee, bringing smiles and cheers from her great grandfather.
Upon our departure, came the amazing prediction: Speaking to my grandmother, my grandfather suddenly exclaimed, ”Oh Ethel, that baby’s flying over the Atlantic, alone!”
Skip forward eight years. I was on a two- year tour teaching in a graduate program in international relations for US Military Officers, at the time stationed in Germany. We drove to Paris to put Rosanna on a flight to Houston, then Conroe, to visit my dad and mom, J.T. and Joy Montgomery. Only after boarding her did we recall my grandfather’s words, but exotic adventure yet remained.
Imagine the wintry scene: late night, newspapers the next day stated it was the worst snowstorm in 100 years! Driving back to Germany in the mush, we were the only car on the road. At length we saw a young couple hitching a ride. Given the weather conditions, we proffered them passage.
Then the adventure began: at the check point on entering Germany, inspectors seated Bev and me while they interviewed our young traveling guests-for an unusually long time. Result: the inspectors retained the couple, charged as revolutionaries of reputation. These were the days of the radicalization of the Western “Peace Movement.”
Finally on our way, we stayed the night in a motel. Then on arriving at our base the next day, and thereafter, we could never even locate on a map the town in which we stayed that night. No-one had heard of it.
Space does not allow for addressing further adventure which occurred, except to say, mystery yet reigns over “what sparked the magic” stemming from the birth of my first daughter.
Robin Montgomery is a native of Montgomery County, retired professor, author, historian and columnist for The Courier.
