I can’t put all the blame on my parents or my nose for my enormous inferiority complex; my hip played a big role. Having been born without a right hip bone made me a little bit of a freak from the get-go. My early years were spent in pillow splint braces that pulled my feet together and pushed my knees out. Sitting Indian style is still a synch for me, even at my age. My mother, God bless her, had been raised Methodist. The Methodist aren’t big on the whole miracle thing unless it is to explain all the stuff that Jesus did in the Bible. But my mother was an out of the box thinker and all those years I couldn’t walk and sat on the floor in those big ugly metal leg braces, my scrawny little knees poking out to the side like a frog, she just kept praying. Sure enough God grew me a hip bone and by the time I was three I was able to walk.