Close, but no cigar.
We were contenders. In it to win it.
We left it all on the field.
In the end, though, we came in second.
But, losing that race was the only disappointment I can think of in this whole four-decade deal.
Let me explain.
The baby was due on Christmas Day, 1985. We didn't know the gender – didn't want to know, which would spoil the surprise. We were still calling our baby “it.”
My wife was a nurse in the hospital emergency room in the little Colorado town where we lived. She worked full-time, right on past her due date. What better place to be than the emergency room, we figured, when the blessed moment arrives?
The surgeon at that hospital, kind of a wag, told my wife before the end of the year that he could get us “a tax deduction” in about five minutes. Easy as that.
Then, after New Years, he told her we could win the First Baby of the Year Contest, easy as pie.
Sadly, another couple squeezed in under the wire and captured first baby honors.
No parades for Number Two.
Our daughter was born about a half hour into January 4th, 1986, in Craig, Colorado.
(When the labor pains sped up the evening before, we thought about driving up to Baggs so our baby could be born in Wyoming, but decided against it. Wyoming Native status, in the final analysis, wasn't worth the risk.)
So that's how we got the kid who soon made it clear she was going to approach life like a little Errol Flynn, sword in hand, eagerly facing down every challenge. I remember the lavender Big Wheel on which she presided over the other little kids in our neighborhood. I remember how excited she was for her first day of school.
I remember the blue dress she wore that day.
Quick as a hummingbird (like her mom), independent as a pig on ice (like her mom), it was decided that kindergarten would be a waste of time, so she skipped it.
(School officials warned that she could be “socially delayed” by skipping a grade. “We certainly hope so!” my wife replied.)
Our big old house was always full of kids. Friends. Neighbors. Her two brothers. It was the place to be. Lots of noise. Full of life.
She came home every afternoon and did her homework right away. Having a dad who wrote controversial stuff in the newspaper never caused her any problems. She was popular, despite her dad.
She went to the University of Wyoming thanks to a wonderful program called “Advanced Payment of Tuition.” So wonderful, in fact, that it had to be discontinued years later. We paid $5,000 when she was born, and tuition and room and board were guaranteed for all four years at UW. What a deal. And she loved Laramie.
She did so well at UW that when she decided to become a Physician Assistant, she was accepted at Duke, the best PA school. Her heart was set on Emory, but I told her she'd just have to settle for Number One.
And pay more attention to basketball.
Best of all, we got her back to Wyoming before living back east could turn her liberal. She lives in Gillette today, with a great husband and two wonderful red-haired, blue-eyed daughters (who, at ages five and seven, can both ride horses).
Sunday was my daughter's 40th birthday, and they had a surprise party for her at Rib and Chop in Gillette.
The coolest families when I was growing up all had daughters. Life. Mystery. Excitement. I grew up with older brothers. But then having a daughter of my own made our house a much more fun place to be.
And now that fun place to be is up in Gillette.
I think the last time my daughter came in second place for anything was losing that first baby of the year deal down in Craig.
Not her fault, though. Can't blame our bad timing on her.
Happy 40th Birthday to my daughter Alison.
Who, other than that fake ID in Laramie, never caused us a lick of trouble.
Dave Simpson can be contacted at DaveSimpson145@hotmail.com
