While three of my uncles served with the 88th in France, I was born on their popcorn farm in Baker Township midst the hills of Guthrie County the scorching, fly-pestering August of 1918, with rumors of influenza all around. The ether-soaked cloth was at the ready for my mother to ease the bearing down, Grandmother's offering when our babies were born. Doc Thomas wondered how my mother knew I'd be a girl, but after Delbert and Donald, maybe our family needed one. "Can we take her for a ride in our wagon?" they begged, bumping against the birthing bed. Grandmother, still laughing, shooed them outside with bread and jam.