Remember Dates

I've always liked to play with numbers, though not strictly in a mathematical sort of way.  I liked to multiply numbers together on a calculator until it went from 10E99 to error out with EEE or whatever error message it returned.  I liked to try to divide two large random numbers and hope I got an even result. I squared and square-rooted and tried to figure out what the x^y button meant even before I'd been taught the multiplication tables.

And whenever I look at two numbers, I try to figure out their simple relationships. I just always have. It's the way my brain is numbered.

So I always thought it was neat that my birthday was 12/12, especially since that was the largest multiplication table value that we had to memorize in the third grade.  And I thought it was neat that my mom's birthday was 4/16 and that my dad's was 2/1 as if this meant they belonged together in a multiplying/squaring away.  (Yes, I know that 1*1 doesn't equal 2, but I've always played with numbers in a liberal artsy sort of way.)

And my brother's birth date - 7/8/78 -- was the neatest of all.

So my poor sister had the only birthday in the family that there wasn't some reason to easily remember.  Until she turned twenty-one.  On September 11. 

Now, as they saying goes, we'll never forget.

Happy birthday Molly!