What a Concept!


So where do I start in describing the early years.  My gift in life is imparting too much information.  I suspect that my blog will be as guilty of showing my gifts.  How far back can you remember?  Do you associate different events in your life with specific years?  Is everything kind of a blur to you?

In 1968 when I was seven, my dad loaded up our entire life into a turquoise blue 1958 Diamond Reo bus, and left the family business for seminary at New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary in New Orleans.  My life in Globe, Arizona had been uneventful until that point.  I am going to cover my dad’s ministries in a future blog.

We were constantly moving while Dad was in the ministry.  When you factor in the normal moves for changing school districts and add them to our moves because of vocational changes, I managed to move fourteen times in thirteen years.  Military brats consider my life unstable.  One of the few advantages to the constant change is that if I can tie a memory to a location then I can tell you the exact year something happened.

In keeping with my reputation for too much information, I am going to devote this blog post to my conception.  If you have grown up with stories of storks or cabbage patches, you might want to leaf through a Biology textbook before reading the rest of this post.

For what it is worth I do remember everything about my conception.  I am shocked the rest of you do not.

My story begins in two parts.  My memories as an egg are kind of vague.  Life was boring in the ovary.  I was about twenty-six years old at the time I started on my fantastic voyage.  For about the last thirteen years about once a month or so things would start to get shaken up between me and my sisters hanging out in the ovary.  It was kind of a tense time and all of the sudden one of us would be pushed to the top and go flying down the tunnel overhead to never be seen again.  We knew there was a similar tunnel somewhere down the tube that would eject one of the sisters over on the other side of mom.  We would hear them screaming as they traveled down the tunnel.   I never knew what happened but I certainly didn’t want to go wherever they went.  Around January 1961 I kept getting pushed to the top.  The monthly earthquake started and “Weeeee!”  I was on my way!  I made it just around the bend and then everything stopped.  It was kind of dark and lonely so I sat down of a fold in the tube, and decided to just hang out there for a few days.

Meanwhile over on Dad’s side, I showed up one day in a world that was just crowded with all my half-brothers and sisters.  We all had a head and a tail, not much else.  We kept bumping into each other and pushing each other.  I knew I didn’t want to hang out there long.

And then it happened!  One night in late January 1961 I conjecture that the vacuum tube TV was taking an extra-long time to warm up to display one of the two channels the coat hanger antennas could pick up.  Dad looked up at Mom and raised an eyebrow, and she looked back with a wry smile.  Kind of beyond that point I don’t want to know.  The thought of Mom and Dad slinging clothes all over the bedroom still kind of gives me cold chills.  I do remember that both parts of the future Sid were aware that something major was going on at that time.

Back at tadpole central someone fired a starting pistol.  We were off to the races.  Somehow I got out in the lead and started swimming as fast as those little flips of my tail would propel me.  Early on I passed my half-brother Hubert Horatio Hagen.  Old HHH had three heads and kept bumping into the walls.  I am still glad he didn’t win the race.  I am told I was out in the lead of a pack of six million of us.  I rounded the last turn and……….

I looked up and here were six million tadpoles heading right for me.  I was attacked all sides and then one of them collided with me, and then I was Sid.  Somehow that unique set of chromosomes that makes me Sid came together to make me.

It is kind of a miracle.  Don’t you think?  Conception, what a concept!


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