It was a cold day in July, as are most July days in Argentina. July 25, 1992. We watched the opening ceremony of the Barcelona Olympics, quite a memorable show (did you see the guy light the torch by shooting a flaming arrow? Pretty neat.) Then I sat down to use the computer a bit, when my wife stepped into the room and said, “My water broke.”
Some phrases take a moment or two to process. This one seemed to take a long time, but it was probably only a second or two. It was time! Time to drive across town to the hospital.
Our Fiat was over 20 years old. It ran on compressed natural gas. It started a lot of the time. Well, most of the time. But it came through on that cold night, firing up right away and carrying us across town to the Hospital Italiano.
On the way, I couldn’t help but think that my life was about to change. I was going to be a father. A little life would soon be entrusted to my care. It wasn’t nervousness, nor fear, but just an awareness of an impending life change.
I’ll spare you the details of the delivery. Daniel Luis Archer came into the world at 1:20 a.m. on July 26, 1992. He was a big, healthy baby. His middle name was easy: one grandfather was named Luis, the other’s middle name is Louis. The first name was chosen from the rather small pool of names that we could think of that worked well in English and Spanish.
Lots of things have happened in the ensuing years, some good, some bad, but all contributing to my son’s growth as a responsible, Christian man. He is a good student and a talented writer. He is a gifted musician. He is sensitive and considerate to others, with a real knack for working with kids. I could go on and on, but that’s his mom’s job. (Just kidding, honey)
And yes… I’m very proud of him. Happy birthday, Daniel.
