This past Sunday morning started out like any other day. I
went through the same routine I always do, but things were a bit different when
my computer informed me that my twin had finally connected to the internet,
which isn’t unusual in itself, its just generally when this happens each
morning, we either exchange hello’s or good morning’s. This past Sunday morning
we each said, happy birthday.
Again, nothing spectacular, it’s not as if we’re going to
forget when each other’s birthday is. But I thought it was kind of funny when
over hour after we exchanged this greeting, Facebook saw fit to send me an
email reminding me that it was Konnie Enos’ birthday. Duh!
I think Konnie put it best in her
Facebook post later that day:
Thanks Facebook for
reminding me that today was Bonnie Le Hamilton's birthday, I might have
forgotten otherwise. I mean it's not like we didn't share a womb for eight
months or celebrate the last past 52 years in some fashion together so I'm
bound to forget that today marks one more year we've both lived on this planet.
Not that I've ever forgotten it's my birthday. All that ruckus people make the
night before the big day makes sure I never forget.
Happy
Birthday America. I love July.
As for all that ruckus the night before, I can remember a
time when we thought all that ruckus was for us. Of course, kids are
self-centered by nature, but we grew up. We do know better, however, having the
fifth of July for a birthday can be fun sometimes, or down right annoying.
Growing up, our mother often mentioned that the year we
were born with the first boom of the fireworks display that July 4th
her contractions started, a month early. Our parents left the display and
hurried to the hospital, and Konnie and I came into world the next evening. And
mother spent the rest of her life complaining about it. J
And then there was the year I took a summer band class, the
summer of our bicentennial. That year The 4th fell on Sunday and our
hometown planned to have the parade on Saturday. My band class was going to
march in that parade, but my problems started when my fellow clarinet players learned two things, first I’d never been on the receiving end of any birthday
spankings, in part because my birthday is in the middle of the summer, and that
my birthday was on Monday.
The girls in the class, which was all but one of my
classmates, decided my height deficiency was due at least in part to the fact
I’d never received a pinch to grow an inch. So they were going to make sure
they each gave me my birthday spanking, and a pinch to grow an inch. A
terrifying prospect considering the number of girls involved and how old I was
going to be.
Then we marched in the parade. When we reached the end, our
bandleader announced to the whole group that there would be no classes on
Monday. While the rest of the band cheered, our bandleader stared dumbfounded
at the clarinet section where all but one of the girls responded in some form
of, “Uh darn!” and the remaining girl sighed and sank to the ground in shear
relief!
Do any of your characters have a birthday on or near a major
holiday? How does it affect their life or their attitude? Do you show this in
your story? It could be happy, sad, anything. Birthday’s happen in real life,
why not in our character’s lives? Think about it.
Happy writing, everyone. J
