My Dad was born on Christmas Day. 25 December, only a few years before the Crash of '29, and wasn't that a lousy thing for a kid, to grow up during the Great Depression with the two major gift-receiving childhood holidays falling on the very same day?*
Me, I didn't have that but for my birthday, there was a big auto race, followed by a day off school for solemn remembrance of Americans who died in our country's military service. Makes a child feel a bit like a Roman General receiving a triumph, all that wonderfulness and bright gifts...while a slave stands beside them, whispering that all glory is transient and peace is only won by blood and toil.
Today is Memorial Day. Take some time to remember those who stood, and fell, the ones who struggled and bled so the likes of us can goof off and grill steaks.
My actual birthday is tomorrow and I'm reminded that my Mom was a grandmother by the time she was my age. Me, I've only been a "grandmother" to cats.
* By the time I was noticing the world around me, we would have Christmas presents and breakfast in the morning, and a big Christmas dinner about mid-afternoon, with Dad's birthday presents and cake for dessert. It seems odd to me not to.
BUILDING A 1:1 BALUN
4 months ago