Another year older

May 12th, my birthday! Whoopie Freakin' do! Holt shit I've had a lot of them. My wife just got up, gave me a kiss, slipped me some tongue, and wished me a happy birthday so all is right with my world.

Let me tell you about my birth. I don't remember it but I am sure I was there. My family lived in the sticks and I was my Mother's third and last child. When the labor started Mom had to phone around to find Dad, he was out with his brother, my uncle Ken. Finally thy showed up at the house somewhat into their cups. What the hell they were celebrating Mother's Day since they had caused a few women to become Mothers.

My uncle Ken had a brand new 1950 Ford convertible that he was very proud of. This would be Mom's ride to the hospital and the two of them helped her into the back seat with her little bag she packed. It was a 18 mile ride over the back roads through the Seneca Indian Reservation. They did not make it.

Mom related the story many times over the years and I think she was still mad at my father for getting half lit on Mother's day with her so close to delivering a baby. They got more then half way there and had to stopped, Mom was crowning. As luck would have it they pulled into the driveway to the Thomas Indian School and stopped the car. Both brave men got out of the car to help Mom. Uncle Ken promptly passed out when he saw what was happening to the interior of his prized car, Dad had to pee first.

When Uncle Ken fainted he whacked his skull on the edge of the car door, busting his forehead wide open. My somewhat foggy Dad has to choose, help his fallen brother or his almost not pregnant wife. He got uncle Ken off the ground and into the passenger side seat wearing a pair of mom's freshly packed cotton underwear on his head. He got back to mom just in time to catch his new son.

Then Dad got behind the wheel of the new Ford and continued the journey, Uncle Ken bleeding all over the front seat like a stuck drunken pig, wearing cotton bloomers on his head. Mom in the back seat making that special mess only childbirth can make. Me wrapped in Mom's new robe.

Mom swears Dad sobered up instantly when I came out. She also claims I has born with a smile on my face, never cried. I was born hungry, before they drove the 5 miles or so move to the hospital I had already found the mother lode!

Still connected to Mom, nursing like it was my last meal, a busted uncle wearing panties on his head, a suddenly sober father covered in blood, in a new convertible we pulled into the hospital. Someone should have got a picture.

When they went to get Mom out of the car there was one last assault on Uncle Ken's convertible, Mom delivered the after birth. The doctor had to tie and cut the cord in the car. Since I was not born in the hospital I was not put in the new born nursery. Hell I can't blame them.

Mom was starving after this adventure so after the doctors checked the both of us over she had a Chicken dinner, they were serving it as a Mother day thing. Mom swears it was the best she ever had.

Poor Uncle Ken, they kept him. Being a Sunday there was no one to take an E-ray of his melon and being loaded he was not making much sense. I do not think he ever forgave me for ruining his car, we were never close.

The total bill for my birth was $13.00 for the exams, cord cutting, and Mom's dinner. Times sure were different way back when.