My dad was the second child born to his parents. My mom was the second of four children born to her parents. And I was the second child born to my parents.
Daddy graduated high school and enlisted right away as a signalman in the US Navy. Mom graduated high school 5 years later and worked as a cashier at Sears until she married my dad 2 years later. They met at a dance club while Daddy was on a 2-week leave.
Their first child, my brother, was born on a Tuesday at 2:22 a.m. The day he was born was the 2nd day of the month. I came 2 years later on the 22nd day of November. I lived with my family in Norfolk, Virginia for 2 years before we moved to Italy. We moved to San Diego, California 6 years later on the 22nd day of the 2nd month of the year.
Daddy died 2 years later when he was victim to a multiple-vehicular accident. My brother died a year later when a drunk driver ran a light and T-boned the car he was in. This happened January 22nd. The driver who killed him was 22 years old.
Later, I went to 2 colleges. I dropped out of the first college during my 2nd year.
I married a man who is the 2nd child in his family. He was the 2nd guy to ever propose to me.
Our only daughter was our 2nd child. She has 2 brothers.
What does all this mean? Probably nothing. Just an observation I had this morning at 2 a.m.