Back in the 60’s there were no ultrasounds, so no pics of me in the womb. Not sure how many months old I was here, but this is the youngest photo I have of myself. I don’t know if I’m nude or wearing a diaper there, so this photo was not cropped to prevent you from seeing my baby butt. I’m sure it was a beautiful cold snowy day when I was born since it occurred on February in Canada.
I was alive!
I’m not sure that I knew what it meant to be alive back then… actually I’m not sure I know what it means today either. I do know that while there’s life, there’s hope, but that might be it? I also couldn’t phantom just how lucky I really was from being born:
- a relatively healthy pudgy guy,
- at a great time in history where most modern conveniences and medicine existed,
- in a good place like Canada where things were politically stable and those modern conveniences were available to me, and
- to good middle-class parents that cared for me.
And so this adventure called life began and this Life started right off as being Great for the reasons listed above and many unmentioned others too.