THE GREATEST STORY EVER TOLD

Friday, December 5, 1975; the due date for our first born. We were expecting a (as in 1) baby. The morning was uneventful; I went off to work at Read's Department Store. Christmas season; a busy day was anticipated. And it was.
I got a call from my bride around noon. It was time. I went back to my desk to put some things in order. It was, afterall, the Christmas season and the personnel department was very hectic.
But the wonderful, mothering women in the office pushed me out the door. Priorities!
I rushed home, nervously kissed my bride, and we headed out to Danbury Hospital to...............wait.
Naturally, we got lots of attenion from doctors and nurses. I did lots of pacing and throwing up. The plan was to put our lamaze training to work and expand our family via natural childbirth. I was scheduled to be in the delivery room, the primary inspiration of my gastric issues.
But by early evening, our plans were changed. My child's birth was not going to be natural and I would not be in the delivery room. (Thanks be to God.)
The doctor's assured me everything was fine. They sent me to the waiting room, appropriately nicknamed "Pop's Corner." In about 20 minutes they would call me, they said, to see my new baby. I went and watched a Knick's game.
More than 20 minutes passed. I think more than an hour passed, but I was okay. The Knicks were winning.
I should note that I was not a very good expectant father; one of the few regrets in my life. Instead of basking in the miracle that was going to happen, I spent 6 months fretting over the responsibility I was about to encounter. I sucked at expectant fatherhood.
I suppose I could have reflected on that while waiting in "Pop's Corner," but I didn't. The Knicks were winning. But, as time passed, I did get a little nervous. Then the phone rang. My life changed forever.
"Mr. Gasestilla," someone was saying, "come and see your children."
"WHAT?" I asked?
"Congratulations, Mr. Gasestilla, your wife gave birth to twin girls!"
I immediately turned to the other waiting man in the room, and asked him his name.
Maybe this call was for him. No, his name was Smith or Jones or something. The call was for me.
I was completely bewildered as I headed to the delivery room. I didn't get very far; I had no idea where I was. I remember the pediatrician coming to get me. The first thing he did was apologize. He had successfully predicted the day my baby would born; he just didn't know how many would be born! Absolutely amazing!
Regrettably, I don't remember much about the initial introduction to my daughters. I was completely stunned. Regrettably also, their mother was fully doped with whatever the drug of choice was in those days.
I do remember going to the pay phone in the hall and calling my mother. When I heard her voice I suddenly realized how incredibly thrilled I was to give her this wonderful. delightful, overwhelming news. I burst into tears, tears of unadulterated joy; the most emotional moments of my life.
I was now the father of 2 little girls; Amy and Amy's sister. Whatever responsibilites I had been concerned about were now doubled. The anxiety doubled, bills doubled. Doubts doubled.
And none of it mattered.
I was the father of 2 precious little girls.

Words fail me. I can't describe the euphoria I felt that night. This morning, the thirty third anniversary of that glorious day, I'm feeling it again.

Happy Birthday, Amy & Sara.