At work the other day the subject of golden birthdays came up. For those unaware, your golden birthday is the birthday where your age matches the date’s number. My golden birthday was my 21st. Supposedly, this means that my 21st birthday had the potential to be even more awesome than it would have been anyway, being in the U.S. and now legally able to drink.
I don’t know where the tradition of golden birthdays came from, but it’s some sort of “luck” superstition. We as people seem to be attracted to things that are mysteriously “good luck”. That supposed outside and unexplainable influence on our lives is comfortable.
At work, the discussion moved to favorite numbers for a second. It didn’t last long, as many of us didn’t think that something as banal as favorite numbers was worth harming our now closely monitored productivity. But the guy who had started the discussion told us that his favorite number was 24, presumably because that was the date of his birthday and would be his golden birthday.”Well, I really like 11 and 15 too…”
Though the conversation didn’t continue, I thought about my favorite number. It is 32.5, because when I was in 7th grade and decided my favorite number was, I didn’t want something as predictable as a whole number. I wrote that number everywhere. I doodled it on class notes. I don’t know why it was special, but it was.
Truthfully though, my number didn’t start as 32.5. It started as 23.5. I had forgotten that until I found some old papers with the number scrawled all over. I don’t know when or why the switch was made, but 23 actually makes more sense. It was my number in basketball in 7th grade. Somewhere along the line, I decided that 32 was cooler.
But 21 is a cool number too. I have always loved my birthday. Even though it’s 4 days before Christmas, my family never combined the two. It made the week of Christmas even more special. I never had school on my birthday except for my senior year of high school. It was a half day; my favorite teacher made me a cake and I got a phone call saying I’d been accepted to the only college on my list I still really wanted to go to.
My 21st year of life was pretty fun. I loved my classes; I had great friends. I was a Junior in college, which means all the perceived benefits of upperclassmanship were in full swing. I could go to bars and drink wine at fancy events. I got to deal with the excitement of getting carded all the time (I look very young).
I don’t know if the number 21 has any more significance in my life, as I haven’t spent my life analyzing it. But I do know that it is the 22nd day of February, and the 1st was the last time I put some real attention to my blog. I’ve dinked around here and there and put up the occasional post throughout the month, but not with the fervor that I had in January.
So, I’ve had my 21 day break. Sounds like a good time to buckle down and get back to work. Come back tomorrow for some reflections on one of my favorite books from my childhood, “Stargirl” by Jerry Spinelli, and its sequel, “Love Stargirl,” which I’ve just read for the first time. These books are amazing. If you’ve read them, I’m sure you know why, and if you haven’t, you can see why in my post (I’ll restrain myself and will provide minimal spoilers).
Thanks for reading!