When presented with an ultimatum my first inclination has always been to go for the ‘or else’ end of the proposition— a defiant tendency that was pointed out to me by more than a few black-hooded figures in charge of my early catechism. This probably explains the abnormally high pain threshold I lug around to this very day. (Go ahead, smack me across the knuckles with a ruler the next time we’re doing math together and see for yourself how little I seem to care.) I’m convinced this emotional dereliction has to something do with a mutated gene strand that skipped a few low risk taking generations in my inherent DNA. Clearly, I was breech born under a bad moon. I am a Virgo, they say, but not by much.
In the late 1960s, when the Age of Aquarius was recruiting the deflowered masses of my wayward generation, I found myself stalled, hesitant to beam up to the mothership. Manned with my own back alley (hearsay, to be sure) knowledge of that dirtiest of deeds, I actually did the arithmetic and concluded that my parents must have lost the rhythm on, or around, Thanksgiving Dinner, 1955. Born in the late afternoon on August 23rd the following leap year (and exactly three complete trimesters to the dinner bell hour later), I concluded that had my mother only pushed a little harder during labor, I could have been a Leo. But then again, if everyone hadn’t started drinking Cold Duck in the morning exactly nine months earlier, I probably wouldn’t have been…. at all.
So hence, I mentally celebrate—in my sick, sick head—two birthdays every year: The day of my most probable, mathematically correct Conception (Thanksgiving dinner, badda-bing), and…. August 23rd, that so-called celestial cusp I barely missed by some late breaking water. When someone asks me what astrological ‘sign’ I am, I simply spew out my theory as posed above… and they usually go away. It’s my own ultimatum of sorts, I suppose, to anyone who tries to get too close. After all, I did come out feet first and tend to veer a little to the left. We breech babies are like that—a bit contrary, I am told.
So dear friends, enjoy my Conception-Day tomorrow and to those of you born on October 1st …. Happy New Years! (Do the math.)
G
Thomas Johnson says:
Born 11/11 I suppose that makes me a Valentine’s Day Massacre?
November 25, 2009 — 8:11 pm
Ken brand says:
I lift my gleaming glass, brimming with “Cold Duck”, cheers to you and yours G.
PS. “Cold Duck” = awesome wordsmithing.
November 26, 2009 — 6:51 am
Geno Petro says:
Cheers KB!
TJ…Im afraid that is a yes.
G
November 26, 2009 — 11:25 am
Don Reedy says:
You now have me very ill at ease with my own conception/birthday, Geno.
August 29 is the day I arrived at 2 a.m. EST. As I tell everyone who gets snared in my babbling on web, “I was born in the hospital because I wanted to be near my mother.”
But now, you and this damned “conception thing” have me perplexed. For, as you will soon see, unlike having a neat 9 months between a major holiday and popping out, I now find that my “conception” day was (using your date as the gold standard) six days prior to Thanksgiving. That would be well and good were it not for the fact that Thanksgiving falls on different days and dates each year.
So, here are my options for my conception day:
November 18th
Mickey Mouse’s Birthday
Created in 1928.
William Tell Day
William Tell shoots an apple off his son’s head in 1315.
November 19th
Gettysburg Address Delivered
Made in 1863 by President Lincoln.
All of these seem to fit me, and now have me fit to be tied as to which I should adopt.
Help……
November 26, 2009 — 12:15 pm
Geno Petro says:
Mr Reedy,
Clearly your case is unique. I suggest narrowing your ‘C’ date down to a specific hour and see what late great thinker on Earth happened to kick the bucket at the exact same instance as… well, you know what I mean.
Yours is clearly a Before/After Life thing.
No need to thank me,
G
November 26, 2009 — 1:06 pm
Sean Purcell says:
Interesting Geno,
I googled this site and put my birthday in to discover when I was conceived. No special holidays, but apparently I was conceived AND born on a Friday. That explains a lot.
BTW, I share my birthday with Big Bird. That explains the rest.
November 27, 2009 — 4:29 pm
Geno Petro says:
yeah sean…and you still got an ivy league education!
November 29, 2009 — 8:12 am
Eric Blackwell says:
Heh…Sean, I checked the site and I was born and conceived on a Friday as well. Go figure.
The only people of note that I share a birthday with are Pete Sampras and Cecil B Demille.
@Geno – The world is glad for your birthday, Cold Duck and your conception day as well (grin) The world is a much better place with you here.
best
Eric
November 30, 2009 — 12:09 am
leanne finlay says:
You are the first Leo wanna be I’ve ever known. Even if it’s just online.
August 17th. Smack dab Leo. Leo rising too, whatever that means.
November 30, 2009 — 12:50 am