On October 1, 1943, heavily pregnant Florence Briggs drove herself to the hospital alone.

Her husband, Robert Briggs, had gone hunting for the weekend. Not that he was completely inattentive; they had consulted the doctor as to whether it was a good idea. The doctor, no doubt a hunter himself, had advised them not to worry, the baby wasn't going anywhere... read more

It was approximately 1984, and I must have been around 15. It was a quiet afternoon at the Capell homestead.

I entered the living room to see Petra, squatting diaperless on the floor with her back to me. She was apparently focused on a toy or some small object in front of her, and with her right hand, she absent-mindedly scratched the right side of her... read more