Happy birthday

Forty-nine years ago to the day, I went bowling at lunch. Earlier that morning I had taken my pregnant wife to the U.S. Army hospital at La Chappelle-St. Mesmin on suspicion of imminent delivery, but, by the time we arrived, her discomfort seemed to have abated. It was Wednesday, my short work day; so, with a "be back soon," I went to the French print shop to drop off the rough draft of the Army newspaper I edited. On the way back, I stopped at La Caserne, the Orleans Area Command HQ, to call the hospital, and was assured that nothing was happening. So, I bought lunch, and, as I usually did on Wednesday, bowled a game. Then, I called the hospital again before heading over to retrieve my spouse. Surprise! While I was bowling I had become a father.

Today, first born is picking up the prescriptions that are keeping me alive. She understands that cell phones once didn't exist, and the hospital couldn't reach me. Her late mother was also understanding, because it was before the day when fathers were allowed to invade the delivery room, and I was there by the time she was available in recovery. (I am not upset that the first time I held first born she peed on me. The Army never knew that, for a few minutes, I was, "out of uniform.")