My dad was born Robert Baptist Barron in April of 1932. April 1st, to be specific; a prophetically appropriate April Fool baby. I cannot imagine another man on the planet who is named for a major religious denomination who was born on an outrageous holiday who could get away with so much while living such a wonderfully full life.
It all began for dad at Baptist Hospital in Memphis. Born eleventh of thirteen children, my dad was the first to be born away from home. Due to serious health complications (I assume brought on by the trauma of giving birth to 10 other kids at home), my grandmother was rushed 35 miles to Baptist Hospital in a desperate effort to save her life, as well as the life of her unborn son. A harrowing surgery was successful in saving the life of my grandmother and my Dad. My grateful Poppa, in an effort to show his appreciation to the Baptist Hospital of Memphis, named my dad for the hospital that saved his life.
Really, Poppa, couldn’t you have just written the hospital a nice thank-you note?
Parents, think really hard before you name your children.
Even so, life is good….