But I Digress...Get Well Soon.

April 11th, 2008-

My wife is giving birth to our first child, the amazing creature that will change my life forever.  It is a Caesarian section, and kim is lying on a table with a curtain concealing everything from mid-chest down.

This is for our protection.  I do not look behind the curtain, because I am not an idiot.

When the child is extracted, the doctors hold it up over the curtain so we can see it.  It is beautiful, emotionally speaking.  In actuality, it is a mewling, slimy little gecko with only a passing resemblance to a human being.

The doctors bring the baby over to the corner to wash off its shame, and ask if I would like to come over and take a picture, which I do, because if you say, no, you look like a jerk.  I walk over there and snap a few pictures of the de-goring and make sure to act like human beings are supposed to.  Beneath their blood-spattered plastic face shields, everyone is smiling.

That's because it is a trap.  The goo-scraping corner is behind the Curtain of Horror, and as I turn to go back to my wife, confident I have gained a few early points in the great "okay dad" game, I happen to see the abattoir scene that lurks behind this joyous event like the torture rooms we all know they secretly have beneath Disney World for dealing with litterers.

The police report will later say that what I saw was merely the doctor removing the placenta from my wife's abdominal cavity, but I know what I saw, and that was evidence of alien infestation.  That was clearly a life-or-death struggle with an extraterrestrial parasite, and I'm not entirely sure the doctor was winning.  My repeated request for a flamethrower were foolishly dismissed.

I accept their official explanation and return to the safe side of the curtain, but vow to watch the first child...carefully.

May 16th, 1990-

It is my 18th birthday, and coincidentally the night of the performance of Alice in Wonderland, the one-act play adaptation I wrote and directed for my school drama club.  The show is (mostly) a rousing success, and I am feeling pretty damn good about myself.  I put my face in the cake before the night is out, but it was on purpose, so I guess that makes it okay.

June 4th, 1999-

It is the last day of school after my first year as a teacher.  I feel an odd sense of accomplishment and pride, which I have to look up in the dictionary to define.  I feel like I've made a difference and am appreciated.

Then I remember that this is an interim position and the bitch principal is not asking me back next year, leaving me functionally unemployed.  This dulls the feelings somewhat.

May 28th, 1977-

I am five years old, at the Thunderbird drive-in movie theater watching Star Wars: A New Hope, as my whole world changes forever.  This is the best thing that happens that year.

My brother is born four months later.

That fact does not alter the previous statement in any way.

September 11th, 2001-

I am assuring the kids who come into the yearbook room that the rumors they have heard about attacks in New York are exaggerated, and that they should learn not to believe everything they hear on the internet.  Even though I am (tragically) wrong, I continue to maintain that same skepticism.

February 2nd, 1997-

I am lying to the woman I will spend the rest of my life with, telling her I like her a lot.  She is not ready to hear that I already know I am going to marry her, because she's a skittish one, and you have to approach them carefully so they do not bolt.

June 7th, 1982-

What am I, like ten here?  Yeah, ten years old.  I would have been in like...fourth grade I guess?  That would have been in summer though, so I'm about to go into fifth.  I really can't remember any specific details from back then.  Was that the summer we went to Mexico?

I probably shouldn't have picked this one.

December 29th, 2012-

My wife is on the computer, and tells me that Peter David, one of my favorite writers ever, has suffered a stroke.  I am greatly saddened by this news, and I hope that he will get well soon, and return to writing.

It makes me think about how much I loved the book "But I Digress," a collection of articles he wrote in Comic Buyer's Guide (print articles are what they used to have before blogs became a thing.)

I remember that he wrote this one article in memory of a cherished colleague.  In it, he kind of bounced around in time, remembering key points in his life, and how his friend's death made him think of his own mortality.

I think of how that would be a cool thing to try and write, and I start to think it might be nice to have a forum to share such thoughts.

My wife suggests a blog.