Today, Friday, December 9, is the date of my birth – with a .01% margin of error – and the rest is history (and the f.b.i. is probably celebrating with us, any excuse to get out of work). Mom said she was in labor for 19.5 hours with me and that it was a terrible experience for her. She always brought that up on my birthday, and sometimes other times, as well. I am sure she had a rough time of it but not like the company that first hired me to drive their big trucks, after I got older; and like Mom, I had no previous experience with it, but at least, after she gave birth to me, she didn’t have to right away come bail me out of jail, like they did (she didn’t have to do that until at least 7 or 8 years later, because, until then, I was always excused for my crimes..although on that occasion I wasn’t actually arrested, I just had to go downtown with Dad and sit in a small room and answer some questions). So anyway, so it’s my birthday so what does it mean..Well, like Sheriff John said, in musical terms, and he actually sang it to us kids on his kiddy-show on the tele-vision in the afternoon’s, –or maybe it was morning, but anyway it went, “Put another candle on my birthday-cake, I’m another year old to-day!” That was great (it was actually at lunchtime). And the best part of it was he never came out of the TV box to slap a pair of hand-cuffs on me and take me to jail for my birthday; and so I was able to continue my classes at the public school without needing to have another excuse for the principal why I wasn’t there, the end!