Wednesday, June 07, 2006


For my entire life I’ve celebrated June 7th as my birthday (Happy birthday me!!!). However, recent primary source evidence has brought this fundamental belief into question. The Smoked Salmon and I were looking at some baby pictures with my parents to grab photos for a wall of baby pics/shame my soon-to-be mother in law is constructing for the wedding. My parents retrieved the old shoe box of pictures from the basement and the Smoked Salmon dug in (with me watching worriedly from the peripheries). The first shot was of a parent and a baby, no writing on the front, nothing on the back. I asked my father if this was a picture of me or my bro. He looked at it, unprepared for the scrutiny, and announced, “ehh… this is me holding you as a baby.” An odd conjecture given the only identity that was clear in the picture was that of my mother holding a baby. We moved to the next picture.

This picture showed a giant close up of a newborn’s wrinkled head (or possibly a very, very old person). The writing on the back of this picture says:

Bluefish Canoe, 2 days old 6/7/1978

So if I was 2 days old on June 7th, that would make my birthday June 5th, right? My parents hated this idea feeling in someway losing track of a child’s birthday might represent parental flakiness they had failed to cover-up. I loved it. Anything, that can bring any mystery into an otherwise totally ordinary existence, I welcome wholeheartedly.

After it all settled in a bit, my mother thanked the All Mighty that I wasn’t born on June 6. Thus she avoided having a child on 6-6-78, who on 6-6-06 would obviously proclaim his true identity as Satan. Again, I disagree. If and when Satan does decide to return to earth—if he is not already here—wouldn’t being the woman who brought him into the world be a pretty sweet gig compared to the rest of us dancing away on fire and brimstone? I know if I turn out to be Satan, I’ll go easier on dear old mom than I will on the rest of you swine. My mom admitted she was wrong, agreed with my reasoning, and went silent; I believe she began to mentally compose a list of enemies (mainly other Worcester Public school teachers) that she might use her new authority against as mother of the Dark One. My father’s cat rushed out of the room sensing she might be among the first to be smote.