They Say It’s Your Birthday

Tomorrow, if I go to work out, my workout machine will ask me, as it does every time I work out on it, how much I weigh.  I will punch in 165.  And then it will ask me how old I am and for the first time ever in my life, I will punch in 6 damn 2.  That’s 62.  So the Brothers are right in suggesting my birthday is this week; and Brother Dan was dead on when he said he thought it was December 14.

Yep, I was born—do the math—on December 14, 1945.  According to my calculations and something Joan said that I didn’t really need to do know I was probably conceived sometime in April in that year.

So I was cooking in the womb or just about to be around the time FDR died on April 12, 1945 and about the time that Hitler guy killed his ugly ass, April 20, 1945.  Of course, I was pretty much a primordial state of cellular development at that time, but it freaks me out to think even the gestational me was around when FDR walked and Hitler was down in his bunker doing whatever crazy shit he was doing at the time.

I am making no connection except chronological here and not at all suggesting that either FDR’s or Hitler’s spirits transmigrated to my developing being.

1945 just seems so damn long ago.  Even to me and I was there.  I can’t imagine how long ago it must seem to my students.  The damn dark ages, I guess….when the world was in black and white and before it got color or High Def.  WWII is pretty much Low Def and the sound isn’t too good either.

So let’s say the average student I teach was born—well, about 1987.  That means I was born about 42 years before most of my students saw the light of day.  And what the hell do I know about the world 42 years before I was born; damn, that would be 1903, I guess.  I think that other Roosevelt was President, Teddy.  But I don’t know who came after, right after. Was it Wilson?  No, there had to be somebody in between.  So I guess I really shouldn’t worry that much about what students don’t seem to know about the past.  Though I was a bit alarmed that one thought the Great Depression was in the 50’s.  And another thought the war to end all wars was WWII.

So tomorrow’s my birthday.

I have changed the Moody Guy page where I put up what I call songs; I have been revamping it and put up songs that I have tried to write over the last two years or so.  These songs are pretty depressing dealing as they do mostly with death.  Also they are not very musically appealing.  But I have been working on my software stuff, so I have stuck in a little drum.  And occasional effects, to lighten the load a little.  Also my voice is wearing out. I am working on another batch of songs.  Love songs!  Can you believe?  But if I sing them like I sing the ones I just put on the web these will be some pretty downer Love Songs. 

4 Replies to “They Say It’s Your Birthday”

  1. So if you’re 62, is your hamburger cheaper? I couldn’t figure out why when I bought the exact same thing (two tacos, onion rings, small drink) at J in the B, sometimes it was a different price….until I examined the receipt one time and saw that one cashier was giving me the senior price…..because of my white whiskers?

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