> Sometimes some Doctors or the Clerks make errors in recording
> facts.

<gasp>  That's gonna shatter a lot of people's faith.  Once upon a time I
thought if only I could find the tombstone, until I discovered the
engravers sometimes knew less than we do.

Thank you Marlene.

A silly but true story:
My first child was born on 19 Sep 1965.
At 6:41 P.M. CDT, according to his birth certificate.

I was there, <iii iiii>, a primary player in the event.

I distinctly recall looking up at the large schoolroom-type clock on the
hospital wall which I had been glancing at a lot anyway after they took
my watch away & wheeled me into the delivery room.

When he let out that first cry, the clock said 6:15.

For years since I paid particular attention to what was on his birth
certificate (I had been amusing myself with astrology in the early 80s
and ran his natal chart -  which resembled him hardly at all );   I
wondered how in the world I could have seen 6:15 instead of quarter to 7.
 No the clock wasn't upside down, nor was I, well I don't think so anyway
- I've tried to imagine every possible contortion;  neither was I
hallucinating -those were the days of Natural Childbirth.

Years after that we all learned about "dyslexia".

A dyslexic clerk perhaps?......typing up the information for the doctor
to sign

When the possibility finally occurred to me, I ran my son's chart again
using a birthtime of 6:14 PM CDT and presto-bingo, the spittin' image;
(45 minutes later is a whole nother rising sign with contrary planetary
houses).

Not that I am swearing by Astrology of all things, nor even "going to the
Source" to get the facts straight.  Mother tells her stories from the
point of view of her generation.  (We have different grampas even though
they're named the same...and I listen with my ears).  And then there are
those Facts, like whose straight-laced papa it was born 6 months
premature, that tend to pop up only on an Official Birth Certificate.
And I have a feeling after all is said and done, after we all have filled
in our crossword puzzles with ink, that DNA testing is going to spoil all
the fun.

happy hunting,
from Cynthia, whose own grandmother often called her "Maxine".

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