
On this blessed day in the year of our Lord nineteen hundred and sixty-eight the heavens rolled back, the angels sang, and an American baby boy was born in a German hospital far from home. The bundle of joy was, of course, yours truly. Happy Birthday to Me!!!
Today marks the beginning of year 37. Three short years until I reach the fabulous forties! What to say about this most wonderful of days? “I was born at a young age…”
Actually I know for a fact that at least one person has been waiting for this day since that fateful day when I posted about Nipplegate…he is sure that my mother has embarrassment planned for retribution. In order to start the salvo I’ll tell a little story of my own.
My parents current home, the one I lived in from the third grade until I went off to college, is a split level home. In the center is a stair case that goes up from the basement to a landing where the front door is. The stairs then continue on up to the upper floor. We had a full glass door in addition to the front door which we frequently left wide open in the warmer months. The shower was downstairs and my brother and I had a habit of just running towel clad…or sometimes naked…up the stairs to our room to change after the shower. Why it never occured to me as a young man to take my clean clothes down there with me is a mystery for greater minds than my own.
I would guess I was around 12 or 13 when this specific event occurred. I had showered and was skipping up the stairs in front of the open door when I noticed a neighborhood kid, Mike, coming up the outside stairs. He hadn’t seen me and in blind panic I ran back down the stairs and proceeded to round the corner to hide my nakedness back in the bathroom. As I ran I looked back to make sure he had not reached the front door and discovered my nakedness (which in itself is funny because we went skinny dipping as kids out in the local creek). I was running to what I thought was the opening of the bathroom door and at the last second I turned my head from looking at the front door only to run full speed, head-on into the wall next to the door opening. Cartoon-style my naked form struck the wall and immediately crashed to the floor. I lay there, stunned in my nakedness, listening to the front door bell ring. Months, days, or perhaps just seconds passed as I crawled into the bathroom. When my brain quit sloshing I stood up only to see a ginormous goose egg right in the middle of my forehead. It was huge! I looked as if I had a small alien growing out of my forehead.
God, in his infinite wisdom, did not see fit to answer my prayers and immediately remove the offending blemish and so I had the sheer pleasure of relaying this story to all who I came in contact with over the ensuing days. There’s a moral about nakedness, running, and knowing how to judge where you are in your surroundings when not looking in this story somewhere but I think my brain is still bruised from that incident.
So there you go. I’ve told the nipple story, the farting in college health class story, and now the Chariots of Nakedness story. Feel free to add your own!
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I share my special day with one of my favorite quarterbacks of all time, Troy Aikman, with Belgian artist Rene Magritte, with French author and philosopher Voltaire, and of course with my favorite classic horror femme fatate Ingrid Pitt.

Thank you Ingrid, same to you.
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I am thrilled to be alive and happy to be celebrating another year of existence. I am grateful for friendships old and new and am glad to share my day with you.

















