Today is my dad’s birthday. He’s a veteran of WWII – a bombardier in the Army Air Corp. From what I understand, he and his entire crew did their 25 missions over Germany and came home. Quite the feat. But then, this was an older crew – most of them in their late 20’s.
It’s also my birthday. Considering that my dad bought this car around 3 years earlier,
and that my siblings are 10 – 15 years older than I am, it’s a fairly safe bet that I was a “whoops!” Especially since my father accused my siblings of giving my mother an ulcer. So she went to the doctor, the rabbit died, and it was time to turn the “den” back into a nursery.
I’m as old today as my father was on the day I was born. Happy Birthday to us!
My dad is 94. You can do the math if you really want to.
'You know in the bell curve of bad-assness you are on the far edge. Maybe not as far as female helicopter door gunners but you are closer to her that to the soccer moms...' - someone who wishes to remain anonymous