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First MemoriesThus, I was born moments after the twentieth century cracked in half. At least numerically. I had already enthusiastically accepted my grandmother's challenge to be a genius while in utero. If I failed to be a genius, then I would simply be another family failure, if not a spectacular one. But if I succeeded, I would offer hope after centuries of ill luck and worse fortune.
Before the abrupt and random prophesy, my mother's pregnancy was as uneventful and clinical as the drab gestation charts displayed in high school hygiene classes. But the prediction turned her phone into a constant source of obvious and repetitious questions. My mother's response was unreasonably calm and restrained. All asked with an undercurrent of anxiety, confusion about their future role, and gre
