It’s official: now they’re 22, 24, 26, and 28.
He was due Memorial Day. He came on D-Day instead, exactly 40 years later. He missed my dad’s birthday by a day, but I got the obstetrician I wanted that way.
I called the OB’s office that June 6 and asked which doctor was on call.
The nurse on the line immediately shot back, and this is a direct quote, “Why, if it’s the wrong one are you going to go out of labor?”
Note that I hadn’t even told her I was *in* labor, but I shot right back, “Yes.” I am an honest person.
I googled St. Joseph’s in Nashua, NH this morning and was pleased to see that it still exists and still by that name.  Hopefully they’ve got a new AC unit by now. That day, New Hampshire was having a record heat wave, 106, and somehow, at St. Joseph’s, a record baby wave to match: the nursery was used to having a half a dozen. There were 37 newborns, among them, my little guy, and the AC blew its cool.
He’s not so little now. A friend of mine once saw him walking up to us, and from his height of 6’6” or or, exclaimed, “Wow. I’m not used to looking UP at people!”
I used to be bigger than you. You’re a good man. You picked the best bride on earth, and I am so proud of you both. Now I’m the one who has to live up to whom you’ve chosen to be, and I look forward to seeing all that is to come. To life!
Happy Birthday, Richard!