Tuesday, February 2, 2010


I have no memory for other people's birthdays. There is an amazing array of useless stuff cluttering my gray matter, and a lacuna where the birthday info is supposed to be stored. Once I took one of my kids to the emergency room, and the clerk at check-in asked, "Child's date of birth?" I glared at him and said, "That's not fair." But I did eventually figure it out.

About three years ago (more than a dozen years into my marriage) I finally came up with a way to remember Andrew's birthday. That was exhilarating. But I still have to re-calculate the date every time I need to know it. I can get it to within one or two days pretty easily, but then it gets tough. This is true of my dad's birthday, too. I know it's either Feb 1 or Feb 2. I seem to recall it's not the same as Groundhog's Day, which would mean it was yesterday. Which means I missed it, because I can't remember when Groundhog's Day is, either, until it shows up in the news.

Happy birthday anyway, Dad. I love you.

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