Dating My Birth

In October of 1960,  husband and wife Bill and Jacqueline White were given a gift by Bill's sister Margie: A romantic weekend getaway on Cape Cod. Apparently, they had a wonderful time, because around 9 months later, on July 15, 1961, they had a bouncing baby boy, Me, Bill Jr.

At least that's the way my mother tells the story of my conception. Mercifully, she never went into detail about just how "romantic" the weekend got. I figure though, I must be proof that they had a pretty good time.

My parents already had 2 girls, and they were delighted to have a boy at last. Even if that boy was me. My Father was especially delighted to have a son. Finally, someone to share his passion for athletics with! Later, when he realized the White family sports fan gene was absent in my DNA, he was a pretty good sport about it. He did spark my interest in cartooning though, and used to spend time drawing characters with me. 

As delighted as my parents were to have me, I could never help but take note of the fact that they had no more children after me. I would like to think that this was an economic decision on their part. Sometimes though, I wonder if the experience of pushing my plus-size cranium out her birth canal colored my Mother's decision.

So yes, today I celebrate 48 years on this planet. Thanks to Mum & Dad (and Aunt Margie!) for making it all happen.

Hey, what are you sitting around reading this for? Get out and buy me a present!

Elves in the Window, and Other Holiday Memories

At this festive time of year, it's fun to think back on all the memories of Christmases past. Here are just a few of some of the fond thoughts of me and my nearest and dearest:

• One of my most vivid Yuletide memories was from one season when I was about five. My Father told us that Santa sent his elves to peek in our windows to see if we were being good.

If  this was his plan to get us to behave, it backfired in a massive way.  We spent the rest of the Holiday season thinking we would turn around and see some little gnome peering in at us through the window. We would shriek in horror at every bump in the night, and had our shades drawn at all times. Our Mother called it: Worst. Christmas. Ever.

• When I was a bit younger, I appeared in a Christmas show  written, produced, starring and directed by my big sister, performed for our parents. I forget the exact plot, but it concerned the possible cancellation of Christmas. I played "The Little Elf" (this was before I developed my elf aversion). When my sister said the line, "Santa says there is no Christmas", I burst into tears. I thought Christmas really was cancelled. The show sorta fell apart after that. I suppose my sister was unaware that at that young age, I was a method actor.

• Another memorable Christmas Eve, at least for my parents, was the year our babysitter gave each of us an entire box of M&M's, which our parents let us eat just before bedtime. Giving already jacked-up young kids a huge amount of sugar on the most exciting night of the year, then trying to get them to go to bed, is a bad idea. My parents learned this lesson the hard way.

I have many other Christmas memories: The cat climbing the tree and knocking it over, having to go to my relatives on Christmas day instead staying home and playing with my toys, not getting the Billy Blastoff set I wanted, etc. I'll save those for another time.

Don't get me  wrong, I love this Holiday. I wish that all year long people could have this cheer and goodwill in their hearts, and be kind and generous with their fellow man.

Even if their fellow man tries to take their parking space at the mall.