The life and times of an ex²-pat Yank.: This day in History.

Fine readers, it's the 16th of January today, and, my birthday.

(Okay, I admit that was a naff first sentence, but, deal...)

I've never actually DONE this before, but, I went to "The History Channel" dot com, and checked the "This day in History" link for the 16th of January. Link.

What happened on my birthday? Well, you can check the link, but I'll throw a few highlights up there...

Susan Sontag is born. Hmm... I share my birthday with my own arch-nemesis. Why is she my nemesis? Well, she's dead now, so I suppose the "arch-nemesis" thing has ended... But the reason stems mainly from a quote of hers: "Photographs are the death-masks of imagery" When I wrote my MFA thesis, I used Sontag as a description of art-critics that make me sick.
Prohibition, passed as law earlier, takes effect. I mean, if there isn't a more "anti-Tuckmac" thing that exists???
The 1st Persian Gulf war begins. This one is uncomfortable. Especially when one considers today's 'shite' happening in Iraq. You know, "Daddy lost, so I'm gonna get 'em in Iraq, uh huh..." But I do have a funny story considering this puppy. You see, on the 16th of January, 1991 I turned 18 years old. In the States, on your 18th Birthday (as a boy) you're meant to "Register for Selective Service" which means the "draft." I went into the post office (that's where we do it, not sure why) to 'register' for the draft, the day THE WAR STARTED! The guy at the post office took the form from my hand, looked up at me, and said, "You've got to be kidding me." I ruefully shook my head and replied, "Nope."
Tuckmac the socialistic-liberal-tree-hugger is born, 1973. I was meant to be born on the 17th or 18th of January, but darn if I didn't want to get going! My mother felt her first labour-pains the evening of the 15th. Went to Hospital, and was told by the nurse, "Well, it's going to be a while yet, you're only at 1 centimeter. (Ten, for those of you not versed in birth-talk, is the 'whoo-boy' moment.) The nurse left the room... 30 seconds later my mother was pressing the button on the 'call box' yelling for the nurse to return. The nurse exasperatingly returned saying, "Jean, it's going to be a while." My mother argued, "No, it's right now." Because of her distress, the nurse took a brief 'look' once more probably to reassure my mother that it was still only at one centimeter, and discovered... You guessed it... Mother was at 10 centimeters. A process that usually takes hours, happened in less than a minute.

Hey, like I said... I wanted to get going. I do have to say, that although the process began, like many first (and sadly only children) I took a while. I was born at 12:05am on the 16th of January on a very cold and frosty 'early' morning at St. Joseph's Hospital in St. Paul, Minnesota.

And, to end this rather BLATANT "cheese sandwich" blog entry, I give you: