During the 1950s, a driver’s license ranked way up there, along with circumcisions or Bar mitzvahs, signaling a young man had come of age. My father dreaded the day I’d be eligible for my learner’s permit. If it were up to him, he would have preferred celebrating my manhood with a bizarre tattoo or tying me down to an anthill. Nevertheless, it was time for me to get behind the wheel and there was nothing he could do about it. After spending the day in the Department of Motor Vehicles, I finally broke free waving my learner’s permit high above my head. I asked my mom if I could celebrate…
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My Birth Anomalies Birth defects are easy... being normal is tough
Anita Phillips was ugly. I should know. I had to sit behind her, looking at the back of her head during the entire sixth grade. She had big ears, stringy hair and bumps on her head the size of golf balls. If her parents weren’t so cheap, they would have sought the services of a good plastic surgeon for her and spared me a lifetime of suffering. But things could have been worse. In between looking at the back of Anita’s head and staring off into space, I tried to imagine what it would be like to have birth anomalies more serious than big ears. Like having two left feet.…