Why Was I Born in Venezuela?

Recently someone asked me this question and quite frankly I'm not sure  how to answer it.  Why was anyone born where they were born?  Of course, it's where your mother happened to live or the location of the nearest hospital.  I will try my best to answer that question:

In the mid-forties, my father who was an adventurous spirit, received an offer to work down in Venezuela.  He owned, at that time, the Midway Garage outside of Tomahawk, Wisconsin.  He was also a hunting and fishing guide and owned a number of tourist cabins.  He was a tall, handsome man and was just getting a divorce from his first wife of 25 years.  I'll call her Aunt Sylvia.  My father, E.H. Titus, was involved in the Pancho Villa conflict of 1914.  He was Stable Sergeant for Battery C at Camp Cody, New Mexico.  There he learned to speak Spanish.  As the years went by, my father and Aunt Sylvia ventured down to New Mexico to pan for gold.  In 1938, my father leased Little King gold mine outside of Hillsboro, New Mexico.  It was quite an operation - yielding four ounces per ton. 

Because he could speak Spanish, my father was offered a job working for Mene Grande Oil Company, which later became Phillips Petroleum.  This was in 1945.  He flew down and became a supervisor climbing platforms, trying to troubleshoot problems and trying to adjust to a totally different culture.  My dad was staying in a hotel near el Rio Neveri but he'd walk by The Hotel Neveri which was owned by my mother's family.  One evening, he saw my mother sitting on her patio surrounded by parrots and lush flowers.  He fell in love.  Somehow he managed to court my mother while sitting between her two sisters.  They were married three months later and honeymooned at Margarita Island. 

My brother was the first born in 1947.  He was born on July 4th in El Tigre where my parents lived in a modern house in the oil camp.  There was a big barbeque the day my mother went into labor. All the Americans were celebrating Independence Day.  I don't know how she managed but my brother was born at home delivered by a slightly inibriated doctor.  She decided her next child would be born in the hospital.  In the first week of May, 1949, my dad took mama to Barcelona to stay at the family hotel.  I was supposed to be born sometimes around the 20th of the month.  My mother was so happy to be back in the city, away from the jungles and looked forward to three weeks of civilization.  She was at a movie theatre on the evening of Sunday, May 8th when she felt that she should get to a hospital.  She was driven to Guzman-Lander clinic and I was born at 6:30 on a lovely Monday morning.

She knew that my dad's contract would soon be over and he'd go back to the United States.  In October, 1949, the four of us flew back to America on Pan American airlines.  The rest is another story!  So, that is why I was born in Venezulea.  Thank you for reading this and I'd love to know Why You Were Born Where You Were Born?  Salud.