Before you learn the next thing, you need to know that my parents’ wedding anniversary falls on February 26.
My birthday is November 26. Do the math, and you arrive at exactly nine months between the milestone dates. I figured this out way later than makes me look intelligent.
But here is where the whole squicky realization of what my parents did at least once on this date 48 years ago gets especially eye-opening. Two of my older sisters — twins — share my birthday and turn 49 today. Clockwork. So much for spontaneous romance.
My other two sisters, also twins, mark their one-year journey around the sun on November 20. That’s the sort of on-time delivery that UPS envies, the sort of punctuality that Longines envies, a hit-to-miss ratio you cannot calculate because algebra forbids dividing by zero. The less said about my younger brother with the February birthday, the more he appreciates being largely left out of this.
Go, Dad. You were not shooting blanks. You, um, saw your opening and made the most of your chances.
In truth, the clustering of birthdays among myself and my female siblings primarily reflects the fact that, most years, my father was able to take leave from his U.S. Navy ship for the wedding anniversary. Opportunity knocks up, as it were.
November 26 happens to be quite the day for extended family birthdays. An aunt-by-marriage on my mother’s side, a nephew, and a first cousin once removed celebrate today. This is a welcome development, as celebrity birthday lay thin on the ground. We have Tina Turner, Robert Goulet (who’s dead), and Charles Schulz (who died before Goulet). And me, your friendly neighborhood Uvular. Thank my parents accordingly.