Perhaps it's because I attended a funeral today (more on that later), but I'm kind of in a mood to think upon youth and vitality, as opposed to old age and infirmity. I guess that's why you came to mind. You were the first baby I ever held in my arms. This was back in college, so you would be almost a teenager by now. I remember thinking, "Okay, this isn't so hard. I can totally handle this. Nothing to sweat." Of course, you weren't anywhere near as squirmy as my kids, or otherwise I'm sure I would have been yelling for someone, anyone to "take this thing before I drop it."
It's just too bad that your pops was a preacher in a freaky-weird cult of a church, and your mom was his glassy-eyed servant wife. But hey, at least you'll have plenty to rebel against. I certainly hope you do.