I was born a dead, black, conehead whom the Dr. discarded in the trash bin so that he could attend to my mother whose life was in peril upon my birth in a two story farmhouse in Plainfield Township Mi. just north of the thumb.

Fortunately for me a midwife was present and took to slapping me around and dunking me in a sink full of hot and then cold water when she couldn’t find another needle to stick in me.

Apparently both my mother and I survived the ordeal and I never bothered to ascertain the midwife’s name to thank her, but I wasn’t speaking then and my penmanship would have been horrible. About like it is now.

I was born on my mother’s family farm, but only lived there a year or so before my mom and dad had a ...

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