4:51 a.m. August 28. It’s a moment that my boy Kipp Chambers and I share. It’s the very minute he was born. I call him every year at the exact minute (time zone is his problem not mine) to tell him the story of that day – his genesis – and to remind him of how, in his very own precocious way and in the only language he had at the time, he declared his independence effectively saying “Y’all can schedule the date (Cesarean), but I’ll decide the time.” Happy birthday, Slug*. I love you more than my pocketbooks.
* Slug, the hottest coal that keeps the fire burning.