And The World Was Never The Same

On this day, twenty-nine years ago, my parents were building a home on Deerpoint Lake, in Panama City, Florida. It was a day well planned. The cement trucks were scheduled to arrive in the morning with 40 yards of concrete for the foundation of their new home. My mother was pregnant and due on the 23rd with their 3rd child. The night before, my father looked at my mother and bravely said, "Joy, all I ask is that you not have the baby tomorrow." This was a big request, not only because she had no realistic control over the situation, but because my father was taking his life in his own hands by making such a suggestion. This pregnancy had not been easy for my mother. It was complicated by the size of the baby and she had spent many a day in the doctor's office being monitored.

Regardless, the trucks were scheduled and it was imperative to get the foundation of their new home laid that day. So again, "Joy, all I ask is...not today." My mother agreed that this day would not be the most desirable time and they went to bed. At 2:00 a.m. on Saturday morning, only 2 hours into the very day they had agreed would be "labor free," my mother's water broke. This child was setting a precedent. However, as any good parent would, my parents refused to give in to the child and my mom sat in full labor as the cement trucks rolled in one after another. Occasionally, my dad would look to his strong, committed wife and ask "are you doing okay?" Her responses were either silence or "I'm fine."

My mother stayed in touch with the hospital personnel, who were not happy that she was on Deerpoint Lake, at least 30 minutes from them. "You have to come in now!" they told her due to the complicated pregnancy. "Don't PUSH!" was another common statement. Finally, around 1:00 p.m., my parents headed to the hospital. The doctor was contacted as he was finishing a game of bowling at Bowlaire. My mother recalls that his first statement when he walked in the hospital room was "I'm glad it's you." This was again in reference to the pregnancy issues.

Finally, at 6:31 p.m. the doctor, using his knee to support the weight, caught a 10 lb. 1 oz. bouncing baby boy! Actually, there was definitely no bouncing. More like the doctor saying "Oh jeeze, my back, somebody take this!" My parents were very surprised. You see, they had two girls and were expecting another. They didn't even have a name for a boy. It was supposed to be Rosemary Elizabeth (shutter). I hadn't heard this part before, but my mother remembers looking up at my father in the delivery room and noticing him tear-up as he looked and realized he had a son. They decided that this baby, being of sound stature and much fat needed a big name. So, my father thought of Jonathan. To continue a family name, they chose Austin after my father's uncle (whom he is named after as well).

So, at 6:31 p.m. on July 21st, 1979, after a story I couldn't have made up, Jonathan Austin Conrad was born to his loving parents, Ted Hiram Conrad and Ina Joy Conrad and two pestering sisters (okay, I love them too) AnnMarie Joy Conrad and Melanie Katherine Conrad. Thus started a really, really wonderful life for me and I thank them all for 29 very cool years.