My name is Angela Shortt, and I'm a writer. I'm also mother to three of the most wonderful people in the world (my biased opinion), and grandmother to an amazing grandson. Apparently, my only other duty in life is to be in recovery from my various distractions during this ongoing spiritual journey as a Baha'i and a "friend of Bill". It's not easy, but it's getting better, one day at a time.
The place:United States Air Force base, which was named Itazuke Air Base back in 1959. The date was probably sometime in July of that year; I can't be totally certain because I'm getting the second hand version of the courtesy of years of re-telling through both of my parents. But I was a fifteen month old inquisitive toddler, according to Mom, and my sister Tam was four months old. As the story goes, a colonel and his wife took care of Tam as my exhausted mother slept on the very long flight from Travis Air Force to Itazuke, where we were to join my father and live on the base. Apparently, the colonel's wife still held Tam in her arms as we exited the plane. My father approached the couple and this was the dialog that he says took place:
Dad: Give me my baby! Colonel's wife: How do you know she's your baby? Dad: Because I would know my stuff anywhere!
Dad, in his millionth re-telling of this story, says everyone cracked up laughing. I don't think I did. At 15…