It was in my blood
to become a radio guy
And most of what I do
I learned at old CKY.
Had a boss named Jimmy
who just let me run
And to this day
I’m still having fun.
As I celebrated my birthday in the waiting room of the St. Boniface Hospital, to play or not play was what kept running through my mind.
I was only a radio rookie at that time, but I was beginning to enjoy it, and even though it didn’t interfere with my band, I had a feeling that it soon would.
Anyway, earlier that evening, while having my birthday dinner with my wife and my parents, suddenly, Lana went into labor.
Upon our arrival at St. Boniface Hospital, I was relegated to the waiting room because, in those days, expectant fathers weren’t welcome in the birthing room. (I have no idea why they want to go in there now)
As I sat there waiting and waiting, the more excited I got about the pending arrival of my son Curtis. I was thinking about all the fun things fathers and sons do together, and I could hardly wait to take him to a Bomber game.
After what seemed like forever, finally, one of the nurses suggested that there was no need for me to hang around because it looked like it was going to be a long night.
Thankfully, my good friend Jim Coghill who also worked at CKY (pictured above), lived nearby, and we spent the evening toasting my son’s arrival. I, of course, continued to check in with the hospital, and think about what a special birthday present this was going to be. Finally, they told me that I should return to the hospital so I anxiously hurried back.
Unfortunately, though, it was just a false alarm, so I decided to take a nap there in the waiting room.
A few hours later, I thought I heard someone call my name, and when I sat up, still half asleep, I noticed that a nurse was standing there holding what looked like a tiny alien in her arms. The unfortunate thing was all covered in goop, and its little head appeared misshaped. (They told me later that because it had been a difficult birth, forceps were involved )
While sitting there still trying to clear my head, I heard her say, “Congratulations, Mr. Johns, you’re the proud father of a baby….” Now, this is where it begins to get weird, it didn’t sound at all like she said baby boy or son, and then suddenly, I realized that what she had said was, baby girl. Huh! A daughter, what the hell do you do with them?
(My daughter Candis and I pictured above skiing in Vermont, at her graduation from UCLA, and after her just completing the Iron Man in California)