From recollections of family members, this is the story of how my brother and I were born.  I'd rather not go into the details of how I was created.

I was supposed to be born on December 23, 1980, but I was fashionably late.  I was actually born on Friday, December 26, 1980 at 1:13PM (aka, 13:13 military time, cool yeah?).  My mom was planning on going to the After-Christmas sale at one of the local malls, but I put a stop to that one, saving my family some money in the process.  Since I wasn't born on the 23rd as expected, my dad didn't know when I would be born, so he went to work on the 26th.  Since my dad was at work, I think my aunty had to drive my mom to the hospital.  It was also my aunty who called my dad at work to come to the hospital.  This was special, the miracle of childbirth, and it was like the 100 billionth time in human history too.  Not much of a miracle, I think.

From what my mom tells me, I was a very beautiful baby boy.  My dad was cheap, so rather than having a real baby crib to come home to, he thought a few towels in a laundry basket was "good enough".  My aunty gave me a "real" crib after she was appalled at my dad's frugality.

When my brother was born a couple years later, apparently my dad had a really bad car.  They nicknamed it "Skylab", which is some Russian rocket or space shuttle that kept breaking down.  I guess the predecessor to the "Mir".  Because of this, my aunty didn't trust the "Skylab", and followed us to the hospital in her own car, in the event that "Skylab" would break down along the way (which it didn't, Go Skylab!).

My brother had a less pleasant birth experience.  He was born 6 weeks premature on March 27, 1982, and had to go into intensive care.  He was kind of a scrawny baby, and apparently ugly.  My mom described him as a "peanut head", and had a face only a mother could love.  He survived though, and is normal looking, though I think elements of the "peanut head" still exist.

<-Back to The "Next" 10 Short Stories for Annie