Father Time has once again kicked me in the butt. Today is my birthday, and as I sit back and take inventory of my additional aches and pains, I have to be thankful for another year of life, love and friends.

Many moons ago my mom and dad had just bought tickets to see the new Alfred Hitchcock film that everyone was talking about. Curiously shot in black and white when most films were going to color, PSYCHO had recently opened across the country and was playing at a little theater in a nearby town. Mom was pregnant with me and due any day, but she had wanted to see the film, being a mild horror movie fan.



They had just gotten their popcorn and sodas from the concession stand and were opening the door to go into the auditorium part of the theater, when SPLAT! My mom's water broke. Surprisingly, they didn't try to refund their tickets, but instead, rushed to the nearest hospital, where coincidently, my mother's sister was already a patient, having been in labor for several hours. The next morning, I finally made my appearance at 9:00am. Outside, a major thunderstorm was raging (and 40 decades later, so would I). Maybe the universe was trying to warn everyone. My poor aunt was in labor for two more days before my cousin made his entrance, and my mom always felt a little guilty that her sister had gone into the hospital first, but mom had delivered first. There's mid-western guilt for you.

So while I decide how to spend my day (apart from preparing for a kickass party this coming Saturday), I want to thank my readers and fans for your support.

Thanks and enjoy the day. I know I will.

JBK