My mother tells me I screamed into the world on a side road in Soddy-Daisy, Tennessee, in the spring of 1974, but I shouldn't waste my time on a road trip to find the spot. I might as well just drive out of the city and into the country taking a look at any side road and it'd be about the same if I close my eyes and inhale deep. No, I tell her, it'd be completely different because we live in the cold north, and Tennessee is in the south, and anyway, that's where my father is from so shouldn't I get to know it? She replies by lighting a cigarette and sipping her iced tea. I begin a new tirade, and tell her it's the most unusual name I've ever heard of and I think it'd be neat to just go there anyway, and wasn't my father's father an Indian? Didn't he have native blood? Isn't that cool? My mother looks at me as if she's going to be sick and says, didn't I tell you that you screamed into the world? Didn't you hear a word I said or are you still screaming? I look at her and wonder what she means, but decide if I'm ever going to revisit my birth it would have to be alone.