Today might be my father's birthday. Yesterday might also have been the date on which he was born or perhaps tomorrow is the correct day.
Here's the story.
My father was born at home in the Aravaipa Canyon near Klondyke, Arizona. There was a lot of stuff going on when he was born and no one bothered to look at the calendar. Some time later the family tried to remember the date and couldn't. What they could remember was that on the day my father was born a big storm hit the canyon hard and dumped several inches of water. While no one could remember the date of that storm, the sixth of November seemed like a pretty good collective guess.
And that became my father's official birthday.
So happy birthday, Daddy.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
Just as long as it's celebrated once a year - not twice as it would make him twice as old.
Post a Comment