I am from a family of seven children, three sisters and three brothers. Six of us were born in the small town of Weiser, Idaho even though we lived in Oregon. My mother had found a doctor there that she absolutely loved. You know the old country type that took great care of their patients. His name was Dr. McGrath.
In 1959 my mother was expecting my brother at the end of March. Knowing that she had long and difficult labors with her first three children (which included three days in labor with me) my parents didn't expect anything different to happen. But a few days before she actually delivered my brother she had a dream that she did not make it to the hospital. This in itself was unusual because my mother told me that she never remembered dreams with the exception of a few and those few were predictors of something that actually came to be. A premonition if you will.
A few days later she went into labor and told my dad that it seemed different. In fact it seemed to be moving very quick. After arranging child care for myself and my older sisters they sped away from Durkee on their way to the small hospital in Weiser. Driving at a normal rate on the two lane highway probably took about forty five minutes. My parents had some very good friends who lived in Huntington, a small town between our home and the final destination. Since the labor was moving quickly my dad decided he had better stop in Huntington, to pick up the wife, Anita who was a nurse, to help if needed.
After picking up Anita they began their journey again. Just outside of Huntington at the top of the hill my brother decided that now was the time. Dad pulled the car over and Anita was in the back seat with my mother. It was dark and of course the overhead light had burned out. Not wishing to help deliver this baby in the dark Anita had my dad light matches to provide what little light there was. My brother bounced into this world in just a few minutes. Looking for something to tie off the umbilical cord until they could make it to the hospital Anita resorted to the only thing they had, her head scarf. Then on my father sped to the hospital where my mother and brother checked out fine.
My brother, first born son, was named after my father, John. He turned out to be the only child born in Oregon. Oh and that nice country doctor, Dr. McGrath, when near her future delivery dates had my mother stay for a few days with he and his wife until she delivered each baby.
The headlines, yes there were headlines. The headlines in the paper next morning were "Stork Wins The Race".