“Mother! Mother! You think he look like E.T?”
These were the first words my father said about me to my gobsmacked grandmother as they watched me enter the world. Mom had been in labor with me for 57 hours (a number that was ingrained into my head as a child at seemingly every birthday or family function) and was dangerously close to not only losing me, but her life as well. Finally, a C-Section was ordered, and not long after I finally made my arrival.
But I wasn’t the ruggedly handsome individual you see today. No, dear reader; my skin tone was an ashen-grey, and my head had a slight triangular shape to it.
Essentially, I looked like Dan Akroyd in the movie Coneheads.
My grandmother loved telling me this story because it made her laugh. She would tell me how she and my Dad were shocked at my appearance, fearful for my life. She would let me know that she was close to passing out. Only after she heard my Dad call me E.T. did she snap back and realize everything was okay.
But my Dad wasn’t through commenting on his boy
“LOOK AT THE BALLS ON THAT KID!”
I’m not sure if Dad was proud or shocked or a combination of both, but he decided he needed to shout this from the rooftops.
No wonder I got into comedy, I had my whole family cracking up from the minute I came into the world