August 22, their day. They think they deserve a parade. Why? Because it's a day the stork worked overtime to feed his family of storklets. Chicks? Gosslings? Signets? Over easy-lets with a side of bacon? I don't know. Whatever. My point is, too many people were born this day, and I blame the stork.
I know 2 of them--birthday people, not storks, c'mon! Keep up. If a stork can do this, so can you. Ok, back at the birthday ranch, I sent one celebrant an email, and called the other on the phone. Both stork-droppings were spending time with family. Good for them. Families and birthdays are like cake and ice cream. They go together great, and once they're gone, you can wait another year before seeing them again.
The one I called said that she and her husband took the kids to the state fair. She lives in Minnesota where apparently a "fair" is the state activity--careful. "A fair," two words. The single word variety, although practiced worldwide, is only celebrated in California. Anyway, all summer long the Minnesotans cram in as many fairs as possible. I guess that's cuz in the winter they're too busy cramming logs on the fire to go to a fair. Well that, and it's kind of dangerous.
"In fair news, today three men were impaled when ice-sickles flew off the till-o-whirl. A fair will be thrown tomorrow in memoriam…"
Yup they love their fairs. My friend says that’s how they stock up on their "food on a stick" for the winter. She say's she's got the freezer full of gator sticks now. Now I'm not an expert on sticks or gators, (cuz I'd never let a gator close enough to put on a stick. If he's getting there, he'll get there of his own volition.), but I do know that Minnesota is not the first place I'd think of sticking a gator delicacy. The things you learn when you phone a friend. I guess Regis was right.
My friend thought it would be a good idea to talk about divorce. Yeah, I told you I didn't want your stick and gator, stick to the birthday, thank you. Still it's her birthday. I understand the fascination. If we're not talking about my divorce, we're talking about her getting older.
Fine. Happy Birthday…
"We finalized it last month."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"So how ya doing?"
"Well I was great until you wanted to talk about it. So what's 41 feel like?"
Yeah, we've been friends for 20 years. We can say that kind of stuff to each other. She did give me some interesting insight though after she told me her special birthday words:
"So it's a new beginning?"
"Yeah, that's what I tell myself."
"That's cool. Did-ja get a crowd on your lawn with a wreath and roses to welcome you through?"
"Well no."
"That would have been cool though, right?"
"Well yes. It would have been cool. 'welcome to you're new life Mr. Boyd.' I get a key and a handshake from the mayor. That would have been awesome. I didn't get it."
"Yeah, they probably don't want to do that."
"Why not?"
"It makes divorce look fun. Everybody'd go. Like a fair."
"Yeah, that would be a problem. I could see some sad housewife sitting around saying 'Well I've been at this 20 years Where's my key and my new life?"
"Could start a riot."
"An epidemic."
That's when the conversation turned to the divorce witness protection agency, and how it would be great, to run one. You know, get a divorce, they take you into hiding and give you a new life doing something else: Floyd used to be a pretty accountant for his wife, but after the divorce we moved him to Mayberry and made him a barber.
It was a great idea whose time hasn't come. Just like the stork-o-pult baby placer, the world just isn't ready. It is ready for a change though. At least I am, and my friend was right. I may not have gotten the fanfare and a parade, but it isn't too late to go down to city hall with a gun and demand one. Ok, well maybe that's not what she meant. She's getting older, she talks in riddles.
This is clear though: this is the time to take stock. This divorce thing is like a birthday. We don't really want it, but once it's here, we might as well take a closer look at where we stand. Celebrate or not, both are times for choice. Either you continue as you were, or you change for the new. August 22 is not just their day. It's our day. Today my friends and I celebrate our day in our own ways. Each of us taking stock and looking for the best way to step into tomorrow. Me? I'm gonna go build me a stork-a-pult. It sounds like fun. Maybe later I'll go demand my parade.
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