On the hottest night in July, 1985, dear sweet Sarah Dodge was born, at home, in the blue wing chair. Just about this time of the day, things were getting serious -- the doctor was fishing mining light and excavation gloves out of his black bag, and the air conditioner was being turned off in anticipation of a great gift, who arrived at around 7:00 p.m. She was covered with glick, but I pronounced her "beautiful." I still do. Happy Birthday, Sarah. It has been a joy.
Posted on: Sat, 20 Jul 2013 22:17:54 +0000
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