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Editorials January 4, 2007
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Ramblin' Roses and Flyin' Bricks
Proving you were born
The late Earl Tucker
January 9, 1957 Afriend from Prichard, Alabama has asked me to write about the birth certificate problem facing so many of our older people as they approach retirement age. Back when they were born there was no bureau of vital statistics. There was a bureau, alright, but it was where they put the wash-tub full of hot water during the borning.

We have what is known as a "delayed birth certificate," but after a delay of sixty or seventy years it's pretty hard to bring one up to date. What you do to get one of these is to get a few of our friends to tell a lie, which the bureau doesn't mind, just so long as it's a convincing lie. You have to get somebody quite a bit older than you are to certify that they remember the exact date and location of your birth. If you can't find somebody older just get anybody. The person doing the certifying doesn't have to have a birth certificate, so, if necessary, he or she can be twenty years younger than you. The main thing is that they will say they remember when you were born and whey they remember. Here's a typical affidavit:

Dear Bureau:

This is to certify that John Smith was born the afternoon of July 25, 1881, at Hoboken, Alabama. The reason I recollect so well was that we had a litter of pigs borned that morning and they were the cutest bunch of pigs you ever laid eyes on, so I wrote on the kitchen wall about them being born. That afternoon I went to see Mrs. Smith, who had been expecting for several days, and the baby was born while I was there. There wasn't a drop of hot water in the house and I'm telling you was had to do some fancy flying around. It was a boy and it was named John after his grandpa on his mother's side. I sure did hate to see him named after his grandpa who was a no-good varmint if I ever saw one.

"Well, we've been laying off for 75 years to get the kitchen painted but we never got around to it, and I reckon now we ain't, but the pigs being borned is still written up there broad as daylight. That's how I know when John was born. The old sow laid on the little pigs that night and killed every blessed one of 'em. They don't need a birth certificate. John is the one who wants the certificate. Yours truly,

Matilda Brown.

P.S. How can I get a birth certificate for myself? I was born in 1900."

I can fully understand how my friend in Prichard feels about this business of having to prove that he was born, because he knows so well that he was. Back then the doctors were not required by law to record births, although, there were many who did it voluntarily. The others figured, I reckon, that the main thing was to get the child born and offer the living proof that he was. Lots of 'em, too, got paid off in black-eyed peas and sweet potatoes and they weren't in the mood to fill out a lot of forms certifying to something any fool could plainly see.

An Easier Method

Birth certificates are demanded, of course, to prevent fraud and as a safeguard of our national security, but it does seem like there could be an easier way for aged people to get one without having to make

their friends tell a lie. They aren't after a job in an atomic plant where they can divulge secrets to the communists and they aren't seeking to get in a shipyard where they can blow up a battleship or something. All they want to do is to quit work and a fellow who wants to do that should certainly be given a helping hand.

We look in a horse's mouth to arrive at his age and it seems we could figure out something like that that might work on humans. If a man ain't got no teeth at all and don't want none and if he's all wrinkled up and walks like he aches all over, you can be pretty sure he ain't lying about his being old enough to retire. He's had it.
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