I don’t know anything about birthdays. Ask anyone, I am widely known for my inability to remember anyone’s birthday. I was once married and had children and to this day, I have no clue if my former marriage partner person ever had a birthday, nor do I know what that particular day may have been.
I have children, I was in the rooms that they were birthed in. I have no clue what days those were. Not a single clue. One of them was born on an important holiday, but not Christmas, because we are Jews and Hannukah has no official start date. So I think one of them was born on the fourth of july, but to this day, I am not sure which one it is.
One child was born on Easter, but that is rather unpredictable on exact day, so year in and year out, we have celebrated that particular childs birthday whenever it was easter. He/She never seemed to mind.
This morning, my most vicious daughter was outside my window making a racket. She does this often enough that I, at first, did not pay it any attention. When a crowd began to form, I looked down onto the street and could see her holding a giant placard in her hands and yammering. I put my glasses on and I could see she was waving one of those giant poster boards that the crazy Kansas church people hold to protest their insanity at military funerals and such. Her sign read “GOD HATES FAGS” is giant letters. At first I found this a little appalling, but then she started singing Happy Birthday to me and all was forgiven.
The problem, of course, was the fact that today was not really my birthday. So it goes.
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