Watched a little football, too.
As much to relax as to honor God, we enjoyed a day of rest. We indulged in a late breakfast, took a brief walk down the goat path, caught up on the news from Spokane with Libby, and then retired to the casita for a full day filled with casual nothingness. Judy sat out back in the warm sun knitting for a while (She alone can claim the accomplishment of the day: she finished one sock.). I spent the day alternating between reading Ivan Doig's Dancing at the Rascal Fair and adding a few years to my autobiography, which I'm writing, not so much for vanity, as for my children and grand children to have some record, albeit a biased account. Today, I relived the birth of my first child, Steve who was born on November 21, 1976. I had worked a shift as a bartender, which got me home in bed around 3 A.M. Annie woke me up at 4, announcing her water had broken. In a fit of first time fatherhood panic and dazed sleep seeds fogging my eyes, I managed to load her and the "go" kit into our car, a 1949 two door Chevy. Traffic was light, and we arrived at the hospital without incident. Six hours later things got a little hairy. Steve was transverse in the birth canal, and time was getting close for emergency measures. I didn't know then, but I know now that there is nothing to worry about with medical types until they start moving quickly. Around 10 A.M. that morning, they started moving quickly. After some deliberation, Dr. Garabedian, our pediatrician, decided to enter the birth canal with a pair of forceps that looked like a large pair of scissors with spatulas on each side, while I looked on dumbfounded and helpless in the corner of the delivery room. Annie, I hope, was delirious with opiates. Garbedian deftly pressed against either side of Steve's soft baby head with the forceps, made a firm but gentle twisting motion, and an immediate suction sound released him. Out he slid, healthy and only slightly cone headed from the experience. He had slight reddish marks on either side of his head, but the skin wasn't broken. Dr. Garabedian then gently pressed here and there on Steve's head much like he was molding clay, and before you knew it Annie was holding our perfect son in her arms exclaiming, "Timmy, it's a boy." I was standing there in my hospital gown smiling tears down my cheeks. A couple days later we loaded him into the Chevy, and our lives changed forever. It caused me to think about how quickly life can change, and how much of it is either grace or luck. I'm thankful and think quite often that I'm the luckiest guy on the planet. When I talked to Libby today, I told her this story and related to her that she was not born yet in my personal treatise, but I did remind her that that, too, was a good day. Tomorrow, we resume our exploration of the Saguaro National Park, but as for now, life is good, another day among special days.
Wedding day, 8/21/71.
My two.
Steve with his baby sister born 6/2/84.
While not close in age, they've always enjoyed each other.
My precious boy.
My, how time passes.
Bud Man Doo.
Somewhere back over the rainbow.
They both smile their lovely Irish smiles even as the passing years have turned them into adults.
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