| My
favorite aunt once confided that, contrary to printed information 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 could very well be true, given my innate fondness for sun, sand, and
a perfect allover tan. Inconveniently, the facts of the case are buried in the past,
as all eye witnesses have long ago crossed to the other side, leaving
history no recourse but to accept my aunt's version of events. |
