Ironically, I owe my very existence to a peanut

I’m clearly not a big fan of peanuts. (Please refer to this site’s url for more!)

And yet, if it weren’t for a peanut, I would never have existed.

My father, Dave Gibbons (Not this guy, fyi.), recently posted the story of how he met my mother on the message board of his college fraternity’s Web site. Here’s the story…

How a Peanut in a Cup Led to a Lifetime of Happiness
Thank you to Dave Gibbons ’77 for sending us this story.

He writes “My best Delt memory was a Delt/DZ party in October of 1976. [It was] held just prior to Jimmy Carter’s election, so we had a bunch of peanuts in the tube room. (For you youngsters, Carter was a Georgian peanut farmer.) I saw this hot looking DZ across the room who I didn’t know but wanted to meet and, of course, what better method then to toss a peanut across the room into her beer cup? One shot, one make. I walked her home that night. Six weeks later I told her I was going to marry her. A few months later we got pinned and I was tied up to the basketball pole and covered in old food, paint and crepe paper out back by the shelter, as was the ritual in those days. 33 years and three kids later, we have been married over 30 years.”

So, were it not for a peanut—a legume to which I have a deadly allergy—I would never have been born. (Note: If you are a time traveler, please do not use this information to negate my existence.) Kind of completes the “peanuts are like my kryptonite” comparison, doesn’t it? Superman’s only weakness are rocks from his destroyed home planet. My death could be caused by the very food item that brought my parents together for the first time. Not quite the same, but eerily similar. Or, maybe I’m just a nerd drawing comparisons where there are none… you be the judge!

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