February 12. I meant to write about the simultaneous 200th birthdays of Charles Darwin and Abraham Lincoln. But not even the fact that it was also Halley’s fourth birthday could drag me away from work long enough to hum a few bars of The Birthday Song.
February 13. I could have written more about my grandmother, who would have turned 106 that day. Or I could have explored the subject of triskaidekaphobia, especially since it was a Friday. Somehow I never got around to either one — perhaps posting on that day felt unlucky.
February 14. For Valentine’s Day I considered an essay on the subject of love, which brought to mind Ambrose Bierce’s definition: “A temporary insanity curable by marriage” (Some patients have reported side-effects such as children and other contractual obligations). Actually, I did write something for that day — a sonnet for my wife:
Westward towards the setting sun they sailed
Your mother’s parents, and your father too
From Sicily and Hungary they hailed
Two families joined in Jersey to make you
Westward towards the setting sun we two
Each drove to California all alone
What we’d find there, neither of us knew
Reaching for a new life on our own
And now the western sun has brightly shone
Upon us fourteen times on Valentine’s
As together our two lives in love have grown
And within our children beautifully combined
They’ll bear our love to generations yet
To shine beyond the time our sun has set
February 15. The birth of Wirth – who is now 75 years old. Not to mention the birthdays of Douglas Hofstadter, Galileo, Praetorius (who also died on February 15), Susan B. Anthony, Cyrus McCormick, Ernest Shackleton, Matt Groening, Chris Farley, and YouTube. I didn’t even have time to post clip-art of a birthday cake, because we were too busy rearranging my daughter’s room, breaking furniture, and shouting.
February 16. President’s Day (or Presidents Day, or Presidents’ Day, depending on what or whom you’re celebrating). Originally a celebration of Washington’s birthday, now that it’s established on the third Monday in February it can never fall on that great man’s actual date of birth (February 22). How fitting, since subsequent presidents haven’t quite reached his magnitude. Taken as a celebration of all US presidents, all I have to say is: good luck to anyone who finds their butt in that hot seat!