“Back in the dark ages … 1926,” Ed Booth chuckled, the grin creasing his face.
Nancy had just wondered aloud, after glancing at me, why the Columbus, Ga., native’s face had so few wrinkles. “Clean living,” he replied, tongue in cheek.
Ed was just over a year old when his father, Edwin Booth, died and he was 10 when his mother, Mary Gordon Booth, remarried.
“My stepfather’s name was Leon Kidd, and he was one of the finest men I ever met,” he said. “He was a widower, and a good friend of my father, and nobody could have been better to me than him.”
Leon Kidd died at age 54.
“Mother was a widow twice by the time she was 50,” Ed added.
“How about siblings,” I wondered, and his soft smile was a fond memory recalled.
“My brother, Jimmy Kidd, is 12 years younger than me, and he was the cutest kid – snow white hair, brown as a berry – I used him to troll for women, put him in the front seat, drove around and girls would say how cute he was and want to talk to him, and I’d say, ‘sure, have a seat,’” he laughed.
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