the one time it crossed his mind to hit my mother, the garage door opened.  the day I was born, a man called my mother at work and left a message that was mostly breathing.  the story of the message was repeated to those born after me when each became old enough to need a laugh.  when it was known no more would be coming down the pike, mother began hitting herself.  it was in this era of standing room only that I was able to convince god we’d slipped into the water satan said was there.