Tuesday, February 16

On Being Born... Again

in order to prove my identity, and my citizenship in this great nation, it has been requested that i send a copy of my birth certificate to the insurance company. i have looked at this particular document a few times throughout my 24 years; i remember asking my dad to pull it out, along with other "important papers," just so i could examine and wonder at the proclamation of my birth, as if it were some great historical treatise.

i still enjoy looking over my birth certificate, as it gives me a peek into the lives of my parents in a more youthful moment, as well as defines some of my familial structure. for instance, my mother was 28 years old at my birth. i was her fourth child, and in two years she would give birth to her fifth, my little brother. 30 years old with five children, three under the age of five. my mother is bionic, and the proof is on my birth certificate.

i also love to see my dad's handwriting. it is the handwriting of a scholar, of a time when penmanship mattered and humans strove to perfect it as an art form (although i think my dad really missed that era by about 50 years, he was influenced by his own father who, if anything, valued the art of education). this brings me to my mother. i would recognize my mom's handwriting even if i saw it come from another hand. it is loopy and slightly sloppy, and reflects perfectly her free-spirited nature.

out of all the peculiar little things to notice on my birth certificate, this is my favorite:

there is a box to check yes or no regarding whether "the blood of this child's mother was tested for syphilis;" my parents checked no. and another box that reads "if no test, state reason therefore," with my mother's wily response to modern medicine, in her loopy, sloppy, bohemian handwriting, being

no need
both parents Christians