A Good Day

On this date in 1942 - 71 Years ago - , a woman in Cambridge gave birth to her second child, another boy.  She was quite relieved to find that the child was healthy and had all the "normal" requisite digits.  No small factor in her relief was the fact that she had been carrying him around 3 weeks beyond her due date, thus accounting for the weight of the baby - 10 lb 11 oz.

The story of that birth had been recounted every year on June 29th.  The elements of the story never varied:

- The frightened look on the taxi driver's face when she got into the cab - ponderously pregnant -  with her little overnight bag, and asked him to hurry to the hospital.

- The busy night at the maternity ward.  The contractions were starting to come frequently, but there was no available delivery room, so the young mother was placed in a wheelchair rolled into a small room ( she said it was a closet) and told to cross her legs to keep the baby from coming.  At one point a nurse sat on her knees.

- But the baby -- after loitering for three weeks -- was now determined to take his first breath.  Somehow a table was found and the birth took place, without further incident.  The details get somewhat fuzzy at this point since the mother was by now drugged into unconsciousness.

- The dad finally arriving at the hospital, after getting relieved of his night shift responsibilities at the post office, and the nurse looking at his big Irish face, didn't need the name.  She brought the pudgy baby boy to the window as soon as she spotted him looking through the glass.  He always remembered the woman near him remarking, "That's not a newborn!"

As the child matured into adulthood, the thing most people remarked about him was that he was almost always late.  For everything except meals.

During his senior year at high school, he was late 50 times, despite the fact that his house was only about 200 yards from the front door of the school. 

As an adult, he was diagnosed as a chronic procrastinator. Despite the fact that he lived within a short walk to the commuter railroad station, he always drove into the city when going to work.  It was impossible for him to get to the station at the time when the train wanted to leave.  He generally came to work late.  He probably would have been fired for tardiness if it were not for the fact the his procrastination also applied to leaving work.  Thus he came in late and worked late, so he got enough things done to avoid termination for being tardy.

Other than the aforementioned problem with deadlines and schedules, his life was generally unremarkable.  He was never president of anything nor was he ever accused of a crime.  His life was fairly mundane, stable, even predictable.  Still he felt lucky. He had many happy moments, remained in fairly good health despite his penchant for beer and bread.  Other than having crossed the borderline from fitness to obese,  he was not troubled by the myriad of trials and tribulations that he read about everyday in the newspaper.  

His one minor claim to fame, was the coining of the word natanate. 
This came to him many years ago when reading the section of the paper titled "On This Day in History", where he would note that actor Gary Busey and comedian Richard Lewis shared his birthday.  He realized that there is no word in the English language to refer to someone who was born on the same day.  Thus: natanate became his contribution.  One of these days he plans to address the word for someone who was born on the exact same day, but being a procrastinator, well, you know...

Now he is retired, and the words tardy and late hold no meaning for him.  He comes and goes as he pleases.  He stays up late at night  and gets up when the Siamese cat yowls in his ear to come down and put some canned food in his dish, or when the noise outside becomes unbearable -- usually from the infernal gasoline powered contraptions used by lawn service companies.    

On the morning of his birthday, he arises, feeds the cat, starts the coffeemaker, cooks 4 strips of bacon in the microwave, and makes himself a sandwich with 2 slices of heavily buttered toast.
He thinks: this is what I would call the start of a good day.

I wonder how my natanates are doing.