On this day in 1978, I was born. I did not have any say in the matter. There was a time I did not exist, a time I did, then a time when I entered the breathing world. Everything provided for me in the months that followed–feeding, changing, medical care, shelter–was provided by others. I was entirely at their mercy, and mercifully they met my needs.
I know all of this, of course, because I am still here, not because I remember any of it. The story I am told is that, while Dad was getting his career with Delta off the ground, Mama and I lived with Mimi and Papa during my first 5 weeks. Yet I have no recollection of this period, though my care was the central concern of the household. [ . . . ]
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