My father
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When people ask me when it was that David and I got married, the only way I can remember the exact date of that Wednesday we eloped is by thinking of my father's birthday, which is May 17 (today, as I type this). Because that year, Dad's birthday fell on a Thursday, and I remember how hard it was for me not to mention anything to him and the family when I saw them to celebrate, seeing as David and I had gone and gotten married the very day before.

And here we are, who knows how many years later -- 3? -- and all the Maybies (what I call the extensive list of family and friends born in May) are being celebrated. My younger sister, my brother-in-law, my father, and several friends. It's the month I am sure to keep a stock of birthday cards in my drawer. There's always one or two in the fray of Maybies who slip through the cracks of my calendar.

This morning, to celebrate my father's special day (of all the Maybies, he is the closest to me), we met up at Bread & Cie for breakfast. The highlight of Dad's morning was finding a parking meter that had 1:44 left. "This can't be," he said, giggling into his chest, for in truth, he expected nothing less from the Universe on his birthday. Dad will spend the afternoon delivering meals for Special Delivery. In the rain. He wouldn't have it any other way. Happy Birthday to all of the Maybies, and especially to you, Dad.

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Javajoe25 May 18, 2011 @ 11:08 a.m.

Hmmm, May babies = Maybies. I like it, Barb. Can't say I've heard it before. Tried finding another month that would work like that and could only come up with an awkward Februbabies. Yea, I know.

Birthdays have always been an item with me since mine falls on the mother of all holidays: Christmas. Yes, a very different experience. Most people think I got cheated, but the truth is I was spoiled rotten as a kid. Big Italian Catholic family, and I was the youngest--what would you expect?

Christmas morning always started with the opening of the presents; my brothers and sisters and I were up to our necks in wrapping paper in no time. Then there was the big Christmas dinner: turkey, or a ham, or both, and all the fixin's. Then out came the dessert: a big birthday cake for "the special one," and more presents! Yaaaay! It was a wonderful, wonderful day. Occasionally, I even got a present that was so special, (meaning expensive) because, as one of my sisters explained, "It's both your birthday and Christmas present." I would just nod and grab the beautifully wrapped box and tear into it.

Now that I'm older it is not the big huzza it used to be, but I wouldn't trade it for any other day. Check it out: I have a collection of cards that read: "Merry Birthday and Happy Christmas!" Now how cool is that?


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