in Dormont
It was cold day.  It was frigid day.

My first memory.  My very first memory of being
alive, I almost died.

I was two.  Two years old and it was cold.

I remember it from above.  Looking down on myself from the ceiling.  I can see myself!

I am wearing a blue jumper, the kind with the feet attached.  It has a design going across
the chest, you know, sort of a zigzag pattern, like Charlie Brown's but, it is a darker blue.

I have a white hat with ear coverings that snap under the chin.  A white ball, on top of the hat.  
They have just put me down.  I am lying on the couch, the one with the flower pattern, and I
have stopped breathing!  I don't remember anything else.  Just that view of me lying on the
couch not breathing.  Apparently, they called the Dormont Police and Officer George Pickles
came down and snatched me up and whisked me to St. Clair Hospital after my frantic Father
had tried mouth-to-mouth.  At some point, I began to breath and survived.

I'm not one to tell you what to believe.  I don't know if I had an out of body experience.  
All I know is that this is how I remember it, from above.

Thank you Officer George Pickles!  Wherever you are, thank you!