|
| My
favorite aunt once confided that, contrary to printed data on my birth
certificate, |
| yours
truly entered this world not within the sterile
confines of Seaside Memorial |
| Hospital but rather in the
back seat of a "woody wagon" parked on the beach. This |
| alternate account
of events certainly makes sense, given my lifelong affinity for sun, |
| sand, and
a perfect allover tan; however, the chronicles of time are filled with
similar |
| anecdotal
sidebars, so it is often difficult to separate fact from fancy. In
this case, |
| all
other witnesses from that day have long ago crossed to the other side,
so dear |
| Aunt
Virginia, as the last survivor, has the last word. Well, that's
history for you. |
| |
