Well, not quite, but almost. Mom was from a farm in the small town of Missouri Valley, Iowa and Dad was from a tiny town named Lodge Pole, Nebraska. They met at the University of Iowa. I am the fourth of eight children (more about that in another post).
When it was time for me to be born, the family was living in Los Angeles where Dad worked at an aerospace factory. Then Dad got a great job offer to play drums with a touring big band, which was his REAL profession. So they scraped together all the money they had and sent Mom, Bruce, Randy and Gina on the train back to Iowa so Mom could be with her family when I was born.
Well, in true show business fashion at the last minute Dad’s touring job was cancelled – bah-dump-bah. This stranded Mom in Iowa and Dad in LA, working to put together enough money to bring everyone back home. As a result I was born at the hospital in Council Bluffs, Iowa. Eventually, Dad was able to bring us all back and be reunited in LA.
Several years later after all eight of us kids were born and we were going back to Iowa for my aunt’s wedding, Dad’s hilarious idea was for Mom to dress like a nun to garner sympathy on the train. It didn’t work.
I still have such great memories of my grandparent’s farm in Iowa. I’m sure it’s because I was just a kid, but the corn fields were incredibly tall and they seemed to stretch on forever. Coming from Orange County we had never experienced something like that and we always had the best time when we visited.