Education
Recently, I celebrated that universal holiday enjoyed by each of us who sports a belly button, reminiscent of our entry into this world. My birthday was nothing special. After all, each of us experiences that phenomenon on an eerily regular basis as the calendar pages turn ever-so quickly from year to year. But this year, I tried to imagine that first birth-day, the day I was born. I can envision a few characters in the cast who played out my birth story. My mother and father were there, as was our family doctor. I was there, of course, although my mother says I did little to assist in the process. Other than that, I don’t know much about other “supporting actors” in this little scene. I can imagine a few nurses were part of the story. Surely one of them cleaned me up shortly after my birth, wiping my wiggling arms and legs free of the detritus that accompanied me from the womb. She may have been the one to weigh and measure me, and pay close attention to my signs of health. Another