Since this website is barely born, I figured my first blog entry should be more about my own birthday, as I alluded to in the biography. I don’t remember much (or anything) about that day, but I have heard the story countless times. Early one fine Spring Friday morning, my mom called the doctor to tell them she was on the way to hospital. I was a day ahead of schedule. My parents then quickly called my Grandma Ellie, whose job it was to notify both my parents’ bosses why they would not be going in to work that day. (For some reason nobody in this story owned a cell phone) Their bosses never got that call, but luckily for the bank teller and bean factory worker, everybody assumed correctly that the reason they didn’t show up was because I was on the way.

For 3 hours after I was born, I screamed at the top of my lungs. My mom pleaded with the nurse, “Please tell me that isn’t my baby doing all that screaming!” Oh but it was, for three full hours! Looking back, I’d like to imagine those shrill wails are what helped me develop the lungs I’d need later in life for activities such as baseball, playing trumpet, and of course, singing. My Grandma JoAnn (whom I was middle-named after) came to see me after I’d settled. Then on Sunday they packed me up and brought me straight to Grandma Ellie’s house where she and my Great Grandma Kate (whom I was named after) were waiting to meet me.

And the little town of Gillett, Wisconsin grew by one little person.