Monday, 5 November 2012

Fawke an' fireworks

It's a good thing that several members of the family had birthdays on memorable days.  Sadly, none of those people are still alive, so I have to rely on memory nowadays.  My grandfather was born on Trafalgar Day, my mother on Remembrance Day and the Sage's father on Guy Fawkes (yes, he was named Guy).

Anniversaries have never been something that registered too well with me and as I get older, my own seem even less important, hence my decision to ignore my birthday this year.  It took the Sage and me years to remember without checking the day of our wedding anniversary.  I'm fine with family birthdays, but that's about all.  Conveniently, Weeza's children are born 2 days (and 4 years) apart and their wedding anniversary is the day in between, so that's easy enough, and 5 of us have September birthdays, so it's just a matter of remembering which is which.

Outside the family - no, not really.  A couple of people always send me a birthday card which is a bit embarrassing really, as I haven't even asked when their birthdays are.  I'd forget, so better not to ask in the first place.

A few years ago, I looked up the date when the Sage and I got engaged.  I knew the year, the day of the week and the week of the month, so it was quite easy to check it on the internet.  But I've forgotten again.

I am particularly successful at forgetting sad anniversaries, or I used to be.  I blanked for years the day my father died, until I found all the newspaper reports a few months ago, and I haven't succeeded in forgetting it yet.  I remembered three days in January, the 18th, 19th and 24th.  One was the day Muldoon was born, one was the day Wilf my stepfather died and the third was the day my father died.  I had no intention of checking, but now I know them all, unfortunately.  I resolutely don't think of them on the day, though.

What I do note are personal milestones, such as the day I was 33 1/3 (it was a Leap Year, conveniently).  And the day I'd been married half my life, then two thirds.  Sorry about the jump between numerals and written numbers.  I'm holding on with a surprising sense of significance to the day when I shall be a day older than my father when he died.  Though if you asked me if it bothers me, I really can't say that it does.  Or rather, I don't think it does, but it must do at some level, mustn't it?  Otherwise I wouldn't be so aware of it.

Anyway, we let off the traditional humungous rocket this evening in memory of Pa, which probably woke all the babies and made all their parents hate us, and have been warming up by the fire since.  Nippy out tonight.  Dry, but.

5 comments:

Roses said...

I'm crap at remembering birthdays. My family has held grudges against me for years because of it. Having a mobile phone with a calendar and Facebook has lifted some of the burden.

This year, I did not remember the exact date of my father's death...which is fine. I'm happy it drifting along in the great river Time. It happened, I miss him, he won't get into a snit with me if I don't get the date right.

mig said...

I get my computer to remind me about birthdays and then dismiss the reminder and forget the birthdays. I am generally very bad at dates and ages.
I noticed when I passed the age at which my Mother died as she was only fifty. I have no idea when I will pass my Father though. Well, if I do, of course.

Z said...

None of is is that bothered, luckily. My mother cared a lot, but since she died we've been fairly casual.

I can't imagine outliving my mother, Mig, who was 79. But it'll be interesting to see what happens as time goes by.

Mike and Ann said...

If I take an average of my parents ages (which is a silly thing to do) then I'm already ahead of the game.

Z said...

I understand that you're supposed to add your parents' ages, divide by two and add ten years. Which brings me to 79, as it happens.