On August 7, 1975, my parents arrived at Dallas/Love Field airport to meet a social worker from El Paso. She had a special delivery.
Some people can say that the stork brought them. The plane brought me.
Every year on this date my mother calls me and relates the story of the day my parents got me. Until August 7, I had been living with a foster family. The social worker was afraid I would get cold on the plane so she put me in an undershirt AND a winter sleeper. (this is August in Texas, people) My mom says I was screaming bloody murder, the milk in my bottle had soured and I had really bad diaper rash. (see...even then I didn't like being hot!) The social worker asked for my clothing back since it belonged to the agency. So, my parents stripped me down in the airport and put on my new clothes.
I guess I screamed so loud that a woman in the airport asked my mother, "What's wrong with your baby?!" My mother replied, "I don't know. I just got her!"
It is hard to believe that my mother was 30 when she got me and my dad was my age. Amazing!
My parents made no special requests on the application form. They said they would take the first baby available. The funny thing is, people often tell me I look just like my parents. (except several inches taller) Guess God picked the right baby, huh?
Funny how life works sometimes.