March 26, 1950

I have decided to start my stories with the one that comes first in my life. Later, I will relate stories from before and after it.

I don't remember much about my birth, but I have been told often enough that I do remember some details of the story. My parents met in Minneapolis-St.Paul, Minnesota, but when they married, my father took a job with a radio station (KXGN) in Glendive, Montana. That is in the eastern, flat, boring part of the state, according to my mother. I do not remember it. They say that it has a lot in common with the Dakotas, including the severe winters. My birth was planned for the middle of spring, at the junction of April and May. So when my mother experienced abdominal discomfort the evening of March 26, she blamed it on the chili that was served at the party they had attended before my father had to go in to work. After a while, it became clear that the cause of this discomfort was not simply gas. By this time, one of the last blizzards of the season was blowing in full force. I do not know how my mother got to the hospital; perhaps a neighbor took her. She had telephoned the radio station to inform my father, but he had to get a replacement out there before he could leave his post. What with the weather and all, he missed the big event. The doctor arrived barely in time to catch me. I was so small-- 5 lbs., 12 oz.--that there was some doubt that I would make it, but obviously I did.