Juliet, my grandmother, asked Eunice her daughter to schedule my birth around her League of Women Voters meeting. "I'll take care of Scott, if you can arrange it." That's Scott, my hyper two-year-old brother. "I have to speak in Akron."
So Eunice packed for the hospital as if for PanAm. I was “induced” from her anesthetized body, a body she was never comfortable wearing, pulled out wet and wiggling into the florescent lights of the delivery room, held by my heels like a baby bat. My psyche's marked by celestial forces scrambling to congeal in the wee hours of the 16th, Neptune in my sun sign, spiritual but unmoored. I have my mother's black hair, my grandmother's spirit of travel, but neither of their discipline.