After an overnight flight to meet my father at his latest
military assignment, my mother wearily arrived at
Rhein-Main Air Base in Germany with my eight
siblings and me -- all under age 11. Collecting our
many suitcases, the ten of us entered the cramped
customs area.

A young customs official watched our entourage in
disbelief, ''Ma'am,'' he said, "'Do all these children and
this luggage belong to you?''

''Yes, sir,'' my mother said with a sigh, they're all mine.''

The customs agent began his interrogation: ''Ma'am,
do you have any weapons, contraband or illegal drugs
in your possession?''

''Sir,'' she calmly answered, ''if I'd had any of those
items, I would have used them by now.''


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