My dad was born at home, in Brooklyn, NY, in 1916 to two Italian immigrants whose English was, at best, rudimentary. He had two birth certificates, both handwritten on the official form, and one filled out by the mid-wife who handled the delivery and the other apparently written out by the city registrar some days later. He had two different birth dates, two different middle names...neither of which he used.... and when he enlisted in 1942 the army gave him a third birthdate. You want to talk about a paperwork clusterfuck.
So there might well be a reason why someone in the hinterlands might have needed some back up. Shit happens.
So there might well be a reason why someone in the hinterlands might have needed some back up. Shit happens.
