It all began 60 years ago. I was just 5 years old (OK, math whizzes, figure it out quickly). My pregnant mother and another missionary woman, along with me, were encamped at Victoria Falls. We were awaiting the birth of . . .a baby something. Brother? Sister? Who knew? In the middle of the night, my mother went into labor. They loaded me, mostly asleep, into the car, and drove to the hospital. The missionary woman helped my mother into the hospital, leaving me asleep in the car. When I awoke, I was alone.
That's how I first experienced what life would be like with this new baby in my life--a brother, as it turns out. I know I have written about this traumatic introduction to my brother before. but it's a great story to trot out in celebration of his 60 years on this earth.
So, in honor of this event, I will forego any sibling stories. I will simply say, again, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, brother.
My brother and his wife (then to be) 30 years ago, and my brother and my sister-in-law, last summer at their son's wedding.
A big happy birthday to your baby bro! What an introduction you had to his coming into the world. :c)
Happy Birthday to a very distinguished looking fellow.
Happy Birthday to your African brother:)
I have an uncle who was born in China of missionary parents. All his life he insisted he was white chinese. This often caused him trouble crossing into the US.
Thanks for the birthday wishes. Now that I am a western Canadian, it seems odd to celebrate 60 by going to Ontario -- but we did. Had a wonderful time, rediscovering the place where my grandfather was born, and his parents and grandparents (and other relatives) are buried. By the way, the 30 years ago was 34 years ago, when we were first engaged.
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