Pres's comment about wanting to show the rest of us the Seattle hospital in which he was born almost brought a tear to my eye. How dearly would I love to show all of you the hospital in which I was born. It was, alas, torn down a few years ago. This may sound like a small thing to those of you whose birthplaces are still standing, but believe me, it becomes a large thing when your own birthplace is torn down.

I was born in Albany, California, Memorial Hospital--on the north side of Marin Avenue, just west of where the elevated BART tracks now run. My parents still live in nearby Berkeley, so I get up that way pretty regularly. Moreover, on most visits I've had reason to drive past the location of the hospital. During the first 25 or so years after I left the Bay Area, I always found it a source of comfort to see the old hospital building as I drove down Marin.

Occasionally I wondered why there wasn't a bronze plaque on the building commemorating my birth. However, I was willing to let that go, as it seemed merely a matter of time before that deficiency was corrected. You might understand, then, why it was such a shock to me to find the hospital gone a few years ago.

Can you guess what was erected in its place? A library. Imagine that. Now I understood why they had never put that plaque on the old hospital: They were obviously planning to do something much grander to honor me inside the library. After all, how many libraries can say they are built on the sites where great authors were born? See what I mean?

Quite naturally, I expected representatives of the library to approach me for information they could use in whatever it was they were planning to do to honor me. When no such representatives materialized, I decided to help them out by supplying them with some ideas they could use, viz., suggestions for erecting a glass case containing my books on the exact spot where I was born. (I got the idea for the case from the Mark Twain room in the Buffalo Public Library.)

To deliver my suggestions, I chose the best possible person to represent me: my mom. Unfortunately, she never got behind the idea with the level of enthusiasm that I had expected. Every time I visited Berkeley, I asked her if she had been to the Albany library to hound them, but she would only give me a funny look and change the subject. (I suspect that she might be embarrassed to admit that she couldn't remember on exactly what spot I had been born.)

Well, to get to the point (assuming there is one), I finally took the horns by the bull and visited the library myself last summer. I almost blush to confess the embarrassment I felt when I inspected its card catalog: The library didn't have a single book that I had written!

There, I've admitted it. My shame could be no greater. This is why I was so moved when Pres mentioned the hospital in which he was born.

For years I bored my children silly by pointing out Albany Memorial Hospital to them every time we drove by. I don't do that anymore. It's a shame, really; however, it may not be too late to do something about it. I therefore call upon all my CR friends to write or call the reference librarian at the Albany Public Library and urge him to buy copies of my books--lots of them!

I met the reference librarian and had a long talk with him. When I pointed out the spot where I think I was born and suggested it would be a suitable place for a glass case, he seemed visibly moved. (I think he was looking for a security guard.)

Actually, he was a nice man, and he offered to order some of my books if I would but supply him with information--ISBN's, that sort of thing. I'd give you his name, so that you could write to him, but I think I've lost his card.