Birthday irony

It’s my birthday, and I received an ironic item in the mail this morning. Folded in along with a birthday card from my mom was a recent newspaper clipping, an obituary. It seems that Dr James Anderson, the doctor who delivered me, has died. He was a pilot in his spare time, and there’s a great picture of him from I’d guess the 1950s wearing a bomber jacket and looking a little bit like Sky Captain.

Thirty-eight years ago to the day you helped bring me into the world, Dr Anderson. On behalf of me and the over 5,000 other babies you delivered in your half-century career, thanks for literally everything.