First Memory

One of the first memories of my life on this earth was in 1980. I even know the day— October 7th.

Mom had brought me home from daycare.

My brother Tony met us in the driveway and wanted me to go with him over to the dog pens.

Tony was one of my two brothers. He was the middle child, and he was eight years old.

To get to the dog pen, you had to walk over this little bridge my dad had built that went over a stream that ran through our yard. As Tony and I walked over the bridge, I looked down and spotted a coin. A shiny new nickel— Tony said it meant I was going to have a lucky day!

Tony and I finished whatever we were doing with the dogs in the dog pen and wandered back to the house. We walked inside the house, and there were all my friends from daycare!

“Surprise!” they shouted. I was stunned and did not know what was going on.

Tony said, “You know what today is?”

“No.”

“It’s your birthday! You’re five years old today!”

There was cake, and all the other kids were wearing paper birthday party hats.

We had chips and dip as well.

Tony looked at me and said, “See, I told you a nickel on heads was good luck!”

Many years later, I would realize that Tony put that nickel on the bridge for me to find. He was only eight at that time.

He would do things like this for me all during life. If there were ever something that I could not do because of my spina bifida, Tony would do it and come back and describe the whole experience to me. — Almost as if he were explaining it to a blind man.

—He was amazing. He would pass away in 2010 with a Brain Hemorrhage.

—He was 38 and left behind three children.

I am glad that my first memory of this thing we call life started with Tony.

I dedicate this blog to his memory.