The story of my physical birth was pivotal in setting the course for my life. As my parents tell the story, I was almost born in the bleachers at the race track.
My dad was and is an avid fan of this popular sport. My sympathy goes out to my mother. Imagining anyone being nine months’ pregnant, suddenly going into labor, and having to sit on those hard bleachers. After poking and prodding my dad many times, my mother was probably feeling like she was trying to hold a basketball between her knees as she climbed down from the bleachers with her mother-in-law yelling back at her turtle-slow son. Finally, they were in the car and on their way to the hospital.
The contractions were coming closer together, and Mom was surely breathing a sigh of relief. Not long now. Almost there... But instead of seeing the emergency room doors, nurses, and doctors waiting to bring her in and help her deliver this baby (moi), she saw the Golden Arches. Dad was hungry for a burger!
I ask you, with a beginning like that, what are the odds that I wouldn’t end up a writer?