It was 14 years ago today. I was doing FirstNews, with Kris Ketz who was filling in for Maria Antonia. We were nearly halfway through the show when the phone on the set rang, which it very rarely did or does. It was my wonderful and very pregnant wife, Jessica. She told me it was time to head for the hospital. Now, this was our third time on the child-birth merry-go-round so we both realized that we had some time. Jessica said I could finish the program because the friend that was coming over to watch the boys, wouldn't be there for awhile, anyway. I hung up the phone and told Mr. Ketz, "Well, by tonight we'll have three little noodles around the house." Kris got a little excited: "What?! It's time? It's time! Somebody boil some water...call the doctor...hurry...hurry...hurry!" He was just starting to tear his very expensive dress shirt into strips...he'd seen somebody do that in a movie...when I stopped him and said there was plenty of time. Kris has never quite gotten over that morning...even now, when I see him, I am required to become his Lamaze Coach and bring him ice chips. Anyway, he insisted I leave immediately. (Truthfully, every anchor I've ever worked with has said that to me at some point.) So, after the commercial break, I said there was a baby on the way so I'd have to go. I heard later, that, after I'd left, the Johnson County EMT's called to ask if they needed to get to Jessica before I could. Awfully nice of them to think of us!

We named her Samantha Christine. The first name just came to my wife one day...probably all those years watching Bewitched. I always say she was named for an old Cole Porter song from the movie High Society. It sounds classier. She shares her middle name with her great-grandma who was an absolutely marvelous person...optimistic, warm, kind and clever; attributes Samantha inherited. In fact, the whole time Jessica was pregnant it seemed like she was carrying a good-luck charm. Things just seemed to go right.

I could fill many pages with stories about Samantha but one, in particular, seems to be a great example of her special "charmed" status. She was about four and we were taking a walk when she happened to see a ring on the path. It was one of those silver plastic models...like from a Cracker Jack box. It was missing two of the "precious gems." You'd have thought Samantha had discovered Elizabeth Taylor's jewelry box or at least Elizabeth Taylor's left earlobe. She put it on her finger and pranced the rest of the way. She said she couldn't wait to wear it to Sunday School in a few days. Now, it must be said, that of all our daughter's talents, abilities and gifts, neatness and organization do not rise to the top of the list. As a teenager, her bedroom has been assigned a permanent HazMat officer. So, I warned her to put the ring in a safe place so she wouldn't lose it before Sunday rolled around.

Sure enough, come Sunday, the ring was missing. After an intensive search turned up nothing, we piled into the van and headed for church. All the way there, I assumed the Papa-Posture and lectured Samantha about taking responsibility for things and taking better care of her stuff and putting things away properly and on and on and on. Her big brothers enjoyed it since they weren't in the line of fire...for once. As I glanced at her in the rear-view mirror, I could see she had her eyes closed tight. "Ah," I thought to myself. "I'm really getting through to her...look at her concentrate on every pearl of wisdom her amazing father is dropping in her ears. I am certainly father of the year material!" I timed my tirade to end just as we pulled up to the church.

"So, Samantha. Do you understand what I've been telling you?"

"I'm sorry, Daddy. Were you talking to me? I was busy praying that God would help me find my ring."

Naturally, that took the wind out of my sails but not as much as what happened next. She opened the van door and hopped out. Just as her feet hit the ground, she said "Thank you!" Her older brother asked her what she was saying thanks about and to whom. "Well, I was just thanking God because look what I found!" She reached down by her shoe and scooped up another plastic, Cracker Jack, ring. This one had all its precious gems in place and they matched her dress. While she was genuinely grateful, she didn't seem particularly surprised. It was as though she knew it would all turn out just fine.

I stood there looking at her and her new ring. One of my sons walked by me and mumbled "Good speech, though, dad." I'm pretty sure he was being sarcastic.

Happy Birthday, Samantha! You're still our good luck charm.