Legacy Writing 365:356

My brother moved recently, and anyone who moves knows: You end up going through a lot of stuff and figuring out what to keep and what you should let go of. In a Christmas card I received from him and Geri today, he included one of the announcements my parents sent out when I was born.

Here’s the inside.

Good ol’ Dorothy, leaving off the year. It’s like she KNEW I was going to get all creative with my birthdate in later years.

In addition, he sent some of my old school photos, as well as something I don’t know if I ever saw before. It’s a little card, and on one side are my tiny newborn footprints.

And on the other side, some of the birth stats:

Thanks, David!

Hmm, it seems Dr. H. Wolterbeek wrote the year in disappearing ink. Crazy! I don’t know if Dr. Wolterbeek was the doctor my mother loved to tell this story about, but here it is.

On the day I was born, she went into the hospital telling them my birth was nigh. Just before ten a.m., a doctor examined her and said, “No, you have a while. I’m going downstairs for a cup of coffee and a cigarette.”

As he walked out, my mother looked at the nurse and said, “I’m having this baby.” When the nurse shook her head, Mother said, “You’d better look. I’m having this baby now!”

She felt vindicated when the nurse gave her a look and shouted, “MEDIC!”

As you see, I was born at 10:03 a.m. I know my mother; I think she turned it into a rush job so SHE could have a cup of coffee and a cigarette.

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29 Responses to Legacy Writing 365:356

  1. Marika says:

    I think that is a military thing … my Mom’s doctor also told my Mom she had awhile to go … and left the room — a nurse actually delivered me and the janitor told my Dad I was born.

  2. Robert Edler says:

    Tsk, tsk! Disappearing ink will disappear … one way or another. But I notice you’ll never be able to run for president.

    • Becky says:

      I could run for president–I was born on U.S. soil in Germany. But I don’t think my past will bear the scrutiny of a political campaign.

  3. Marika says:

    ..also I forgot you know who else is an Ausbergian … Hans Hobein – it is one of the oldest cities in Germany.

  4. Marika says:

    I also like that you are a total of 20 inches — 13 being your head. So how long were you called Big Head Becks?

    • Becky says:

      Wrong–I was 20 1/2 inches long, which made me 1/2 inch above average in length. The average circumference of a baby’s head is 14 inches, so I was just under the average. And I was only four ounces under a newborn’s weight average. In other words, I was pretty much average in every way, as I’ve always said. Don’t be disparaging my infant stats.

      • Marika says:

        it does not say circumference anywhere … it says 13 inches. I stand by my statement …

        • Becky says:

          Circumference is one of the standard baby measurements at birth. An ADULT’s head isn’t over a foot in length. From the top of the back of my head to the base of my skull NOW is like 6.5 inches.

          • Marika says:

            again … I see no circumference — I must believe that is the length of your head.

            Although I like the thought of you measuring your head at 220am in the morning … I wonder what the weather is like in Chicago…

  5. Tom says:

    I’m surprised I missed it at first, but your freaky feet don’t match! ;-)

  6. Ronaldo says:

    omg that announcement is adorable. Like seeing something from a time capsule (not an age joke I promise). Very cool.

  7. Debby says:

    With your elongated head you must be an alien and the difference in your feet explains the walking like a penguin!

  8. Mark says:

    Pet milk..?

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