Showing posts with label I remember. Show all posts
Showing posts with label I remember. Show all posts

Monday, January 24, 2011

52 Weeks of Personal Genealogy & History - Home

Week #4 – Home Week 4: Home. Describe the house in which you grew up. Was it big or small? What made it unique? Is it still there today? This challenge runs from Saturday, January 22, 2011 through Friday, January 28, 2011.


This is my Grandmother Clara's house. It was her husband's home too. You can see from my previous post that they had previously separated but they eventually got back together before he died because this was also his address on his death certificate. I had also previously told you that there were eight of us and we shared one bathroom. I'm going to take you on a tour of this home and then a short tour in the neighborhood. First, from the outside and you can see the home is three stories high. Counting the basement that is four. It's hard to tell but there was a window in the basement. See next to the water hose and under that window in the first pic? So the grand tour? Let's go.

Starting from the sidewalk, you can see that we have to go up six steps, about two steps then four more steps to the front porch. We used to have a glider on the porch and really enjoyed especially afternoons and evenings on the front porch. The house faced the north, so evenings we would have shade because we had one of those roll up screens on the west side of the porch to shade us. Going in the front door, you are then in the living room. We used to have a piano on the west wall of the living room and some of us took piano lessons. The east wall had a couch under the window and the north wall had an easy chair in front of the window. During the holidays, the easy chair was rearranged because the Christmas tree always went in front of that window. Continuing on from the living room, go straight to the dining room. Furnished with dining room furniture but also had a console b&w television in the northwest corner. There was some space between the table and the wall so if you wanted to sit on the floor and watch tv or you could sit in a chair at the table and still see tv. Go past the table and hang a right then a quick left, then you are in the kitchen. Wait a minute. Just one step before you go into the kitchen, there was a corner to your left. I didn't make the drawing exactly right to display this corner but that was where you would almost always find grandma. The thing is that the wall that created the corner carried the ventilation from the basement up throughout the house. Therefore that corner was right above the furnace. That's why grandma sat there, because it was warm. Go on into the kitchen. It was a large kitchen. Stove, fridge, table and the kitchen sink was on the far east wall under the window. Lots of counter space and cupboard space and plenty of extra floor space too. When I was little, I had one of those table and chair sets. It was located under the west kitchen window. When my cousins came to visit from Pittsburgh, us younger children would sit there for dinner. Take a left in the kitchen past the kitchen table that was against the south wall and you would be at the back door. Step outside and there was room on the back porch for about three or four to stand out of the rain while we were coming or going.


Backtrack and go back into the dining room. I forgot a couple of things. This dining room was a bit bigger than that. Against the west wall in the dining room was my Aunt Agnes' sewing machine. All of us girls learned to sew on that Singer machine. Later years, Aunt Ag got a serger but she kept that old Singer serviced and it lasted her many years. Well, if we had to eat at separate tables for dinner then how did we do that for holiday dinners? The dining room table had one or two leaves and the table that normally sat six, was forced to seat ten with room enough that we weren't really crowded. The youngest two of us still sat at my little table in the kitchen. After my Aunt Emma passed away and three of their five kids came to live with us, (that's how we got to eight). So then, for Christmas, the dining table would sit all eight of us and Uncle James who came to have Christmas with his children.

While you are still in the dining room, see the door that is on the east wall? Go through that door and turn left you'll be going down to the basement. The basement was not finished so it was pretty much one big open room. So to speak the furnace provided some kind of division because it was just about in the center. This was a converted coal furnace and was I guess an efficient gas furnace. You can't tell, but it there was a coal chute converted to a window on the driveway side of the house. On the northwest corner of the basement you can see there is one divider. It was a small room. We called it the fruit cellar. It had plenty of shelves on all four walls and during canning season, it would be plumb full of tomatoes, beans, corn, jelly, greens and lots of fruit. Before when I said there was one bathroom, I left out the commode in the basement on the south wall at the east corner. I didn't lie, we just didn't use it for the most part. I would use it only in case of emergencies because it was functional. Also if necessary, up until about ten, I could also take a bath in one of the laundry tubs. You know those iron and cement ones. They came in handy when we used to have one of those washing machines with a wringer. Before we got a dryer, all the open space next to the fruit cellar had clotheslines for the winter or rainy days. Outside clotheslines were also available. The first couple of feet on the north wall could only hang short items because there was a deep freezer there. It was a huge freezer, I'm going to guess 20 or 25 cubic feet. Big enough for a couple bodies. Every fall, we would get a pig, a half cow and a bunch of chickens from the slaughter house. We also used to go to the bakery and get dozens of loaves of day old dread. When the freezer was full, I didn't mind much to run the 'what's for dinner' errand to the freezer. If it were near empty, I was scared, fearing to fall in. Who would know I was there?

Continuing the tour, go back to the threshold from the living room to the dining room. Soon as you step into the dining room, you can take a left turn, one step up and a right. You are headed to the second floor. At the top of the stairs, you can see there is a window to your left. At the top of the stairs, turn right and then a quick left, you are in the bathroom. Nothing special, except you can see it has a large linen closet. Spare tp, toothpaste, vacuum cleaner. Come back out of the bathroom and you can take an immediate left from the hallway and you'll be in my cousin JGHM's room. Hers was my Mom's room before that. JGHM was the only one among us who had a room to herself. I was jealous. Back out into the hallway and go all the way to the end. You will be in my room with grandma and another cousin FHNM. Three twin beds, three dressers and a student desk. It was a full room but not overcrowded. Go back into the hallway and immediately turn left. One step up and turn right again going to the third floor. For some reason we didn't call it an attic. Before you go upstairs, you might notice there was what used to be a door in front of you. We almost never used this door but you could go through it and go downstairs from the outside. If you do continue to the third floor, you will find the two boys' room and my Aunt & Uncle's to the front of the house. Both these rooms were a bit smaller because of the sloped ceiling but were finished rooms and again were not overcrowded.

Before we go back outside, I want to take you back to the top of the stairs on the second floor. Right in front of you at the top of the stairs is a full length window. I am going to digress a little bit. I lived in this house until I was twelve. Then I went to live with my dad. When I left to go to basic training, I had to lol when I noticed that there was a full length mirror at the exit to the dormitory. The purpose of both mirrors was to take a good look at yourself when you are fully dressed; no run in your stockings, slip is not hanging below your hemline etc. Except I hope you lol with me when I say that in basic training we also had to salute that mirror every time we passed by it. I guess the point was to salute yourself but more than that for the practice to watch yourself properly salute.

OK, we go back outside on Myrtle Ave and you can see that probably for safety and security reasons, the basement window, coal chute window, second floor door and outside stairs were removed and security lighting added. Probably also for safety and security, there are bars on the first floor doors and windows. All of that would be some occupant after us. When we lived there, the neighborhood was quite secure. We closed the front and back doors but almost never locked them at night. I remember when we used to go to Pittsburgh for the weekend there would be a 'find the front door skeleton key' exercise. I remember when I came back from Youngstown taking these photos, I showed them to one of my coworkers, and he was the one explaining to me that this is called a shotgun house. You can shoot a shot through the front door and it will come out the back door. Well this isn't truly a shotgun house but I get the point.

This street Myrtle Ave is on a city street and a block that is a city block long. I have heard tell that a city block has an accurate measurement and three city blocks are a mile. Grandma's house was about the fourth or fifth house from the corner. The church I was mentioning before was about a half block away from us down the street. I don't want to suggest that we were the most popular kids on the street but is true that in front of our house was where the majority of the kickball games were played. There was a hopscotch drawn on our sidewalk almost all summer long and hide and seek was most often based at the telephone pole you can see to the west in the second pic. I was saying before I lived there until about twelve. The rest of my family moved out about a year or two later. The house stayed in the family for quite awhile. It was rented out for a few years, then my oldest cousin inherited it from grandma. I found out only a few years ago that the same cousin was supposed to have paid the other six of us $200 each as our inheritance. We'll never see it.

Remember I was saying before that grandfather was a barber? There was a barber shop around the corner. If you leave our house and walk the four or five houses east to the corner, turn right or south and walk to Kenmore at the next corner, there is the barber shop. This block from Myrtle to Kenmore was not a full city block, only about two or three hundred feet. According to Steve Morse' One Step pages and the Sanborn maps Kenmore Ave used to be Mckinnie.

During my hunting for roots throughout Youngstown, tracing city directories, I have also tracked other families who lived in this house before my grandparents bought it. This house used to be a front for a business. There used to also be an outbuilding in the back. According to word passed down, this other building was a dairy. These other families include but have not been determined to be limited to:

MN Smith
Mrs E Ackworth
William P Henry
Joseph T Morgan
Lee J Cook
JJ Rudzik

The SMITH family lived there in 1918 so the house is at least that old and the RUDZIKs in 1949-50. My family was on N. Blaine Ave and E. Cherry in 1949-50 but had evidently reconciled, living on Myrtle in 1951-52. I guess I could probably check property deeds to determine exactly when they purchased, but I'm thinking I am not that curious unless I happen to go back to Youngstown and get to the courthouse. I may eventually do that. I do have some unfinished business there that is not urgent. We'll see. So last I checked the old homestead is still there. I cannot check using Google street view because only the main streets in Youngstown are photographed. But I did check using satellite view and it's still there.

Before I close up, I want to tell you a funny. I took these photos during my last visit to Youngstown that happened to be a high school reunion weekend. I took the first photo from the east side then walked over to the west side to take the second one. Just about that time one of the occupants came home. He asked what I was doing, I explained that I used to live there and wanted a couple of photos. His response, "What you want to do that for?".

52 Weeks of Personal Genealogy & History by Amy Coffin are some genealogy blog prompts to document your personal genealogy. There are 52 in all, one for each week of the year. Amy says,
"I hope you like it and do take the time to write down the details of your own life.

Please make this a fun event. Don't get upset if you don't do all 52 weeks. That was never the intention."


2488 words

Saturday, January 15, 2011

52 Weeks of Personal Genealogy & History - Cars

Week 3: Cars. What was your first car? Describe the make, model and color, but also any memories you have of the vehicle. You can also expand on this topic and describe the car(s) your parents drove and any childhood memories attached to it.

This challenge runs from Saturday, January 15, 2011 through Friday, January 21, 2011.



My first car? I had a love/hate relationship with that thing. Love? Kind of a gift from Daddy. Well, he didn't give it to me. He sold it to me for $10. It was four years old and I was So Grateful! Grateful that I didn't have car payments to make. I kind of didn't like the color but that was a trivial thing. 1970 Ford Fairlaine 500. Mine was a pukey pea green close to this.

Mine was a four door with a black interior. I put an 8-track player in it and ja ja ja jaaaamed to work everyday. Please note that I didn't have a lot of 8-track tapes. Playing mostly The Tavares, my favorite tracks over and over again. Too Late, It Only Takes A Minute, Remember What I Told you To Forget and Heaven Must Be Missing An Angel. Maybe New Birth, Dream Merchant or It's Been a Long Time, Stylistics... You get it. You might be a youngster and you don't get it. LOL

Oh, my goodness, this is bringing back great memories!!! I was just going to do a quick love/hate. While I'm reminiscing, it reminds me of the cost of gas! I'm remembering about $0.85. Timeframe I'm talking was from about the fall of 74 to summer of 75. OPEC oil embargo, lines at the gas station. Youngsters also have to remember that we weren't in so much of a hurry then. We complained a little about the high cost of gas but otherwise life was pretty good. Waiting in line at the gas station was an opportunity to socialize... with the other people in line. And there was still plenty of excitement going on in my beloved Youngstown. I left the following year. Oh yeah, the love/hate and back to the Ford.

OK Hate. This car caused me to never consider ever owning another Ford again, and I haven't, currently driving my 7th car. Back then, I was considering that I just happened to be the stuckee of one 'defective vehicle'. About two or three years ago when I was charting my vehicles (yes, I have them all imaged), there stirred up a discussion of our first one. An older and wiser gentleman explained that some of the manufacturers were building vehicles 'well enough' in the 70s. Mine had some kind of electrical problem that I, nor my mechanic had ever found. Whatever this electrical problem was would cause me to have to get a jump frequently, let's say about once or twice a month. The battery, alternator and regulator had all been checked out. What's left? Wiring in the steering column and wiring in the firewall.

Well, time was quickly passing by during that year. I decided to go into the military and had to decide what to do with Betsy. My first consideration was to get her rewired, get some minor bodywork done and get her painted black. She would have been beautiful! Circumstances changed my mind. For one, the transmission started to slip. Then about a month before I left for basic training, some speed demon hit me. More the transmission than the accident changed my mind to have her restored. I also had nobody trustworthy to leave her with. Somebody who would accept the money I gave them, get the work done and not drive her as if she were their own. Nobody. So about a week before I left home, I sold her. You know what's funny? The guy I sold her to had a long way to go to school, one of my classmates' brother. When I saw David at our 30th reunion, he said his bro drove Betsy for several years with no problems.


52 Weeks of Personal Genealogy & History by Amy Coffin are some genealogy blog prompts to document your personal genealogy. There are 52 in all, one for each week of the year. Amy says,
"I hope you like it and do take the time to write down the details of your own life.

Please make this a fun event. Don't get upset if you don't do all 52 weeks. That was never the intention."

Friday, October 29, 2010

A Rock

To you, it's a rock. To me, it's a piece of the Berlin Wall. I was in Germany from November 1989 to October 1990. The Berlin Wall fell in August 1989. I didn't get this piece myself, someone went to Berlin and brought me this piece and another smaller one with some paint on it. Sad news is, that I didn't have it authenticated. Give me a break, I wasn't doing genealogy then. Daryl, if you Ever see this blog, I would really appreciate a letter of authentication. Well... you kinda can't do that since I didn't get it then. But I would still appreciate a letter saying you did give me a piece.



Ha, if I were a Facebook user, I'd probably be able to find Daryl.

Saturday, October 23, 2010

Who Do I Blame for Not Starting Sooner?

This is Part II for my previous post Who Do I Blame?

LOL. I think I am going to revise that December 2003 chapter in my book. I'm going to call it The Fever and the Bug.

Who do I blame for not starting to study genealogy sooner? I have nobody to blame but myself. When the mini series, Roots, came on TV, I had just started my first quarter at Vernon Regional Junior College. Before I started college, I created some ground rules for myself that were non-negotiable. I had a study schedule that I decided would be strictly followed and failure to follow would mean potential disaster for my college career. I decided early on that I had to have a study schedule. I was working full time; a young airman in the Air Force, single and had previously gone to the Airman's Club to party, sometimes, even every day. I didn't need that kind of attitude or lifestyle bleeding into or disrupting my studies. I decided that if I made an exception for Roots, then I'd probably find an excuse to make exceptions for other good reasons. So when Roots came on, even though I could have taken just that one week to watch Roots, I decided not to because I was studying every evening from 7-9 unless I was in class that night.

Correction: ...every Sunday through Thursday evening from 7-9 unless... That still left Friday and Saturday for partying.

I could also blame the Youngstown Public School System and all of my teachers for not being more stimulating or motivating to offer some kind of genealogy project in the curriculum. Oh wait, there I am blaming myself again. It is not the fault of my educators that I wasn't motivated or stimulated towards that area of study. Here's a quote, "You cannot teach a man anything; you can only help him find it within himself." Galileo Galilei

Actually, I can think of occasions where a couple of specific teachers offered some sort of stimulation, I just did not run with it as I could have. First grade, learning to read. My life was certainly more exciting than Dick, Jane and Sally with their pets, Spot & Puff. I don't know if you had the same first grade readers that I had, but "See Dick and Jane. See Spot. See Spot run. Run, Spot, run." was not interesting reading. Third grade, tracing silhouettes of each other and cutting them out, then shuffling them to try determining who was who. Fourth grade, studying geography for the first time. Pedro and Maria were a brother and sister couple that were living in Argentina. Why didn't I take that opportunity then, to start learning more about my own life, culture and environment? Seventh grade; studying the Aztec Indians (or was it the Incas?)... I remember creating a diary project that aged the paper with tea and burned edges to look old. Or even eighth grade, memorizing and reciting The Gettysburg Address.

Still blaming myself, why did I not take lessons from life and death that were not part of my school curriculum? Lessons like remembering the I have a Dream Speech, or deaths of notable people like Martin Luther King Jr, John F. Kennedy, Bobby Kennedy. Why didn't I want to pay more attention to remember stories of my father or my Grandmother Clara? Another great opportunity to have started sooner is recounted when my Grandma Ella died in 1969. I could have take the 'discussion' "When was she born?" and ran with that. What about when I was in college? Attending Wayland Baptist University after Vernon, I had to take two religion classes. I took Old Testament and New Testament History. In the Old Testament History, the instructor, who was a Baptist Minister's wife, took us through the genealogy of Jesus. All that is time or opportunities that I cannot take back or relive. Right now, I cannot think of any other opportunities that I have passed or missed. But isn't that enough? That's more than enough. All I can say about that is that I'm so happy I'm on it now!

Are there any missed opportunities in your life?

Who Do I Blame?

Last Saturday, Randy Seaver posted his SNGF post Who's To Blame.

Hey geneaphiles - it's Saturday Night, time for more Genealogy Fun for all Genea-Musing readers.

Your mission, should you decide to accept it (and we need more of you to do this, otherwise it may end...), is to:

1) Read Brenda Joyce Jerome's post Who or What Do You Blame? on the Western Kentucky Genealogy blog. She asks these questions:

* Can you identify person or event that started you on this search for family information?

* Did you pick up researching where a relative had left off?

* Did your interest stem from your child's school project on genealogy?

* If you have been researching many years, it may be hard to pinpoint one reason for this journey.

2) Write your responses on your own blog, in a comment to this blog post, or in a note or comment on Facebook.



Below you will find an excerpt from my 'book'. It's not the first chapter, but is the first chapter that I wrote almost seven years ago.


Written December 2003:
The story behind this picture is one of several reasons that I chose to start studying genealogy. This picture was taken at Jerome's & Diana's (my son & daughter-in-law) wedding. The story behind the picture goes back of course to the planning of their wedding. Diana's father, Ray was deceased when Diana & Jerome married. I can tell Diana loved her father so much, she spoke of him often. So to honor Ray, Diana chose to walk down the aisle alone and to be not given away by a living person. Also as a tribute to Ray, along with all the other deceased relatives who couldn't come to the wedding in body, Diana decided to have a table of pictures. The pictures were of those folks to show how many were attending in spirit. The only living souls' pictures on the table were those of Diana and Jerome when they were younger.

I'm sure I heard of the plan to do this table tribute before that, but on 24 March prior to the wedding is when I can put a date to the plan of this table. I called family members to tell them to "bring pictures" and explained to them why. Among the calls I made were to my sister in law, YSB (Vonnie). During that conversation, Vonnie gave me a definition for this tribute. She said it's called libation and was derived from Swahili. I was so thrilled for the tribute to have a name, I had to go home and look up this word, libation.

Essentially the meaning of the word in context of the picture was spelling out the act of libation that I remember seeing in old movies and also on the streets of Youngstown as I grew up. The scene in the old movies would go something like this. A bunch of drunks would stand around as they were drinking a bottle of their favorite beverage. They would pour out a bit of the liquid; usually before they took the first sip themselves. And they would do so to commemorate those who were not in attendance; most often because they were deceased. I'm sure the original meaning was not for bunches of drunks to pay this tribute. As I looked at the definition, there were other meanings. Some religious in nature, as well as secular. As for the folks in Youngstown, they created their own meaning. Added to those who were deceased were those who were at that time in Viet Nam or those who were incarcerated.

As I start to write my personal & family history, you can see that I'm starting in the middle or you might even say near the end. Since the wedding of Diana & Jerome was only a year and a half ago, and there's no telling how much longer, I'm going to live… Farther along in the story, I'll share with you other reasons my love for genealogy is still going strong after a year and a half. Heck I can remember when I didn't even know how to spell the word, somehow I was trying to stick another o in it; a common misspelling of genealogy is geneology. And you know what? I didn't want to start the story with "I was born…" or "Once upon a time…". That's boring. I want this story to be one that will hopefully live on. And those who know me know that I love to tell stories.


As I reread this story, I see that the part about my great grandparents, Smith and Pinky are missing. All my life, I had known my grandmother Clara and had seen younger pics of her. I didn't know her husband but had seen a picture of him. I had never seen this picture of his parents.

Here is an excerpt from my blog, Sunday, January 17, 2010.

They are my favorites! When I first saw their photograph almost eight years ago, I said "Who are these people? WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE? WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE?" And wondered why I had never seen this picture before. That was the beginning for me. Almost eight years of finding more about my folks and finding more about myself that I didn't know before.

Further explanation goes that this is among the photos that were sent. Matter of fact, my cousin, FHNM (Fran) sent the Smith & Pinky photo about a week ahead even though she was coming to the wedding herself. I had been bitten by the bug in March; expecting that I would have descendants one day. The day I got that photo in the mail was THE day that I got the fever. If you take a look at the libation table photo, you can hardly tell, but Smith & Pinky are in the center back of the photos on the table.

Now, I blame my determination for finding the answer to My Simon and determination to write these stories; mine and my ancestors', to keep me on the genealogy path.

Thank you, Brenda, for providing the idea for last week's SNGF! And thanks to Randy for passing it forward!

Stay tuned for Part II.

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

A Model Grandma

The first memory I have of Grandma Clara was that we that 'we' called her Nanny. That applied to one of my first cousins and I. She had five other grandchildren who called her Grandmother or Grandma. The other first cousin and I caught on and we started calling her Grandma also. Now that I am a grandmother myself, I can see that the Nanny thing was most likely to distinguish this grandmother from that one. I didn't see my other grandmother as often and when I did, they were never both together, so the part about distinguishing one from the other became a non issue.

Grandma Clara was a model for all grandmothers to follow. She made every one of us feel that 'we were the special one'. Although, now as an adult, I know it isn't so. When I was let's say ten and younger, you would not have been able to convince me or my other six cousins that it wasn't the absolute truth. Certainly could not convince me because I was her baby's baby; regardless of any other factor, you can't change that.

Something else about Grandma is that she had glaucoma. For those who don't know, it is a blinding disease where seeing shadows eventually become total darkness. Her oldest child, Agnes was her caregiver. Aunt Agnes' her husband, son, three others of my cousins and myself all lived at Grandma Clara's house on Myrtle Ave. Now and then I think about that and it makes me snicker. Eight people and one bathroom! I tell you what, we had it down to a science. The five of us kids were six years apart from the oldest to youngest. School mornings we had a routine that was strictly followed by all five of us. You better be waiting outside the bathroom door when your turn came or you got skipped and even went to the end of the line.

Back to grandma. When she got her social security check, she would often slip all of us a 'piece of change'. It's no wonder she didn't always give us a little every month and I don't blame her. I have observed occasions where one, maybe two of my cousins stood there waiting for their money and grandma would ask for confirmation "Is that a five?". "No, Grandma, that's a one". I tell you what, Grandma couldn't see but she knew exactly how much money she had.

You see this photo of her standing in front of her church? I'm positive it was Mother's Day. See the white carnation? I had one of my cousins help me to decide when was this pic taken and we figure it was about 1965 and she would have been about 76 years old. Well, eventually she got to where she didn't want to 'bother anybody' to drive her across town to go to her church on Wilson Ave, so she started attending the Seventh Day Adventist Church. It was coincidentally down the street about a 10 minute walk. Even though it wasn't very far, she still needed assistance getting there and back. Any one of my other cousins could have taken her (an they may have now and then) but I think I remember taking her most often. I said it was a ten minute walk, any one of us kids could have gotten there and back in five minutes but you had to walk a little slower if you were walking with Grandma. You had to alert her to the cracks and the uneven sidewalk slabs.

I hope I don't sound like I was her little angel. I must admit, that I did her wrong once. She told me not to go anywhere and I did anyway. I made the mistake of taking her blindness for granted once and I paid for it when I got back. I have asked forgiveness for that dirty deed. She assured me I am forgiven but don't do it no mo. I also remember when there was a thunderstorm, we had to turn out the lights and sit there quietly while the Lord was doing his work.

One of my cousins and I shared her bedroom. Hers was the largest bedroom in the house and fit three twin beds, dressers and a desk very comfortably. The one thing I remember best about Grandma is that when she went to bed at night, she got down on her knees to pray most nights before she went to sleep. Now and then, she'd get in bed then pray but she did pray every night.

At the end of her prayers she would say the first verse of The Serenity Prayer:
God, grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.
Amen

Added inspired note after reading Sandra's article My Grandmother Always Said…… :
My Grandma used to always say, "Keep on living, you'll be old someday." I do get it.

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

Thursday, March 4, 2010

I Remember Dr Enriquez

The delivering doctor's name on my son's birth certificate is Col. (military abbreviation for Colonel) Buttmiller. When I picked up his birth certificate, I burst out, "Who in the HELL is He?" I specifically remember that Saturday afternoon, Dr. Enriquez is who delivered my baby! (That's pronounced "Enrique" like Enrique Iglesias, but I've verified his name had a Z at the end). I considered to have his birth cert 'corrected'. Turns out that Dr. Enriquez was a resident. On this day at 1:08 pm every year, I think about him. Even though the official papers don't recognize his contribution to my life, I sincerely appreciate it and will never forget him. One thing I specifically remember about him is that he was Hilarious! I guess a sense of humor is not a prerequisite to be an ob/gyn. But then again, it's a requirement isn't it?

I have to tell you this to setup the story of how funny he was. Since this was my first child, I depended a lot on friends to tell me what to expect. Somebody advised my that I wouldn't get anything to eat regardless how many hours I was in labor. So I planned as I packed my bag, I was going to get something to eat before I left home. I was even at my bff Mary's house one day when false labor started and I literally ran home to get something to eat. Well that was a great plan that went out the window when labor awakened me about 3:30 Saturday morning. I paced, laid back down, got back up and paced some more. Back and forth, in and out of bed for about three hours.

Fast forward to the hospital about noon. Dr. Enriquez came to check on me and found I was only (some #) centimeters. He announced that he was going to lunch. I asked him to bring me a ham sandwich. He snickered, "Sure I will". Fast forward again to when Dr. Enriquez came back from lunch. He said that he 'forgot' to bring my sandwich, then he sounded out "Whoa, it's Time to Go!!!". At 1:08, pop pop, it was all over. Then again, that was just the beginning.

Happy Birthday, my son. And thank you Dr. Enriquez.