When I was born, my Dad – crazy as a loon mind you - drove the Department of Social Services absolutely nuts with a year’s worth of letters and phone calls, making absolutely sure not only that my birth certificate was legally sound and factually correct but verifying the names of all attendant medical staff on hand at the moment of my birth as well as the names of those listed on the document itself in the event diligent follow-up might be required at a later point in time. He actually got into a fistfight with the Overseer of Records at the County Clerk’s office, requesting copies of other recent birth certificates, ensuring that mine was an exact stylistic replica of those, so that no one might later on call it into evidentiary question. To cover all bases, he made sure that my birth announcement was printed in nearby local newspapers as well.
His reason for all this, of course, was: “My boy might run for President one day.”
BILL
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