As I write these words, about a day before you are eagerly reading them, the mental clock ticking off the years I've graced the earth has clicked over one more number. One more year down, one less reason to act like a child, one more reason to save money for the eventual nip and tuck.
But I figure not everybody is dancing in the streets, tossing confetti in celebration of my milestone. Perhaps they're blowing horns and trailing streamers for another reason. Perhaps, in fact, it is for International Nursing Day.
Yes, long before I was a twinkle in the appropriate couple's eye, May 12 was known for something else. Before I showed up, the International Council of Nurses appropriated the occasion. Out of boredom and guided by the technology of Google recently, I decided to research the date. I was hoping for something cool or at least off beat, but nursing it is. While this is an important observance - go military nurses in Iraq and emergency nurses patching up the ill at God awful hours of the night! But I don't feel a particular kinship with Florence Nightingale (yes, the 12th was her birthday, too, in 1820).
Of course, I'm not quite sure if I belong in the ranks of May 12 people and events at all. For instance, in 1864 the American Civil War holds its Battle of Spotsylvania Court House where thousands of Union and Confederate soldiers die. In 1870, Manitoba becomes a province of Canada. My birth seems a little trivial in comparison.
Jump ahead 62 years and in 1932, 10 weeks after his kidnapping, the infant son of Charles Lindbergh is found dead near Lindbergh's home. Bet they didn't celebrate that with cake and candles.
Of course, in 1967 in England, Pink Floyd staged the first ever quadraphonic (four channels of speakers) rock concert. OK, the history of my day is getting better.
In 2000, the Tate Modern Museum opened in London (must explain my arty side) and two years later, former president Jimmy Carter went to Cuba to hang out with Castro for a few days - the first presidential visit since the 1959 revolution (that must explain my Mojito fetish).
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Fellow Taureans sharing the day include actress Katharine Hepburn (1907), comedian George Carlin (1937) and current San Francisco Giants manager Felipe Alou (1935). Notice I'm omitting infamous spy Julius Rosenburg (1918) - he probably wasn't really a May 12 kid; he just showed up early.
One Web site claims that May 12 is Fractured English Day in honor of baseball's Yogi Berra; another said it is Limerick Day. Think those two can be used together?
In 1896, there was also prohibition of spitting. Yes, the New York City Department of Health issued an ordinance that prohibited spitting on sidewalks. Think we can get this re-issued for San Mateo County? I'd consider it a belated birthday gift.
And lastly, in 1978, the world received Women's Hurricane Liberation Day. The Department of Commerce officially announced that hurricanes would no longer be named after women only. I'm not so sure this is a good thing; forgive the gender bias, but Hurricane Bob just doesn't sound quite as ferocious.
In November 2001, after all, Hurricane Michelle did batter Cuba severely and cause the evacuation of 700,000 people. And besides, anyone watching me blow out all those candles on my cake yesterday probably agrees that the necessary gust could give any hurricane a run for its money.
Michelle Durand's column "Off the Beat" runs every Monday and Thursday. She can be reached by e-mail: michelle@smdailyjournal.com or by phone: (650) 344-5200 ext. 104. What do you think of this column? Send a letter to the editor: letters@smdailyjournal.com.
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Keep the discussion civilized. Absolutely NO personal attacks or insults directed toward writers, nor others who make comments.
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