Tuesday, September 7, 2010

It's My Birthday!

There will only be one day when this song will be as meaningful as it could possibly be.  (Except for the line about drinking less beers, because I don't drink.  And hanging out with my wife, because I don't ever aspire to have a wife.   A husband, yes, so maybe we'll just substitute that instead.  Tangent #1 of this post.)  Anyway...

I spent part of this past holiday weekend (I'd seriously like to thank whoever decided to come up with Labor Day, but I understand even the origins of that are disputed.  Tangent #2.)  with my extended family.  We went to Norris Lake in Tennessee and had the best time riding boats and tubing (although in all fairness, when you get dumped-twice-in choppy water doing 40 mph, it does hurt.  And I am feeling it today.  Ouch.  Tangent #3.)

For most of my family (who are awesome, and we are just alike, loud and fun-Tangent #4) it was the first time they'd seen my father since his stroke.  And since it was a family gathering, we told lots of stories. 
I have alluded to the fact that my father likes to tell tales.  And I've been privy to a many of them.  However, I'll share one that I could not remember.  For reasons that will become obvious in moments.

It's no secret I was born with a lot of hair.
Myself as a newborn.  And my father.
Still not convinced? Okay, you asked for it:

Three months old. 
And this is where our post gets funny.  Because my dad loves to see just how much he can get away with, he told my mother, her mother and sister (because they across the road when I was this age) that he had an aunt whose hair was just like mine.  It always stuck up and it would never lay down.  And for a long time he had them going:

Since these last two pics are from May 1981, Dad had three women living in mortal fear for 8 months.  And if that weren't bad enough...

My other grandmother and I at Myrtle Beach in 1981.  10 months later, and still spiky.  30 years later, everyone still recalls I looked like a porcupine.

If I hadn't gone to the lake this weekend, I would have never known about Daddy telling everyone this.  I think it's hysterical.  On a completely different note, to show you how much hospitals have changed:

Yep, that's my dad smoking a cigarette in hospital room after my mother had delivered me.  It's nice to know hospitals have made progress.

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