On a Sunday afternoon in May 1987, I drove my family to my parents’ house so that we could visit with them. At the time, Georgette and I had four children — Harry, Anna, Maria, and Laura. When we arrived, my mom wished me a happy birthday. I had turned 30 the previous week. After wishing me a happy birthday, my mom’s first question was, “How does it feel to be 30 years old?”
I’ve written before about how I grew up in a family of 17 children (nine boys and eight girls). The 16th child, Elizabeth (Liz), was born in 1974. The baby of the family, Anthony (Tony), was born in 1975, the same year I graduated from high school. Liz was born four months after the 15th child, Kathryn Mary, died.