And so I comply -- even demand the name change from others. It is the name, after all, I chose originally 11 years ago when he was kicking at the walls of my womb, begging to break free, begging to play the Beatles and dress backwards and pull down Christmas trees to gather up candy canes. "Gus -- I mean August" is how it's going lately. And I must admit, I'm a little sad. I'm missing my Gussie. But even more, I'm proud -- tremendously proud -- of whom August has come to be since the day he was born & his heart stopped beating & he rode helicopters & had machines breath for him & pump his blood for a month. This is the child who taught me how to pray & now he teaches his baby brothers about music & we all sing along.
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