According to those that maintain these records, George
Washington was born on February 22, a long time ago, and when we travel through
the area encompassing the original thirteen colonies, we find that he slept,
away from home, as often as possible. For many years, Americans celebrated
Washington’s Birthday on his birthday, kind of the way we celebrate our own
birthdays.
Then came those with deep sensitivities, worrying about all
the other presidents’ personal worth. Are those dear dead presidents feeling
left out, unworthy of a birthday celebration, with cake, ice cream, hot dogs,
baseball, and Chevrolet? Honest Abe had his day, February 12, but Martin Van
Buren didn’t get special treatment. Neither did old Calvin C.
“Well, that’s just terrible,” said the sensitive ones. So,
now, all of our calendars still reflect February 12 as Lincoln’s birthday, and
February 22 as Washington’s, but now, we have the third Monday to celebrate
Presidents’ Day, because as we all are imminently aware, the bounty of the
nation rolls on the greased wheels of the retail market.
Thus, the three-day weekend, in which we do everything
possible to celebrate the birthdays of each and every president. By spending
money, of course. Don’t forget all those hot dogs and Chevrolets.
So, this leads us to a time of reflection, a time to ponder
the other three-hundred-million of us whose birthdays are not celebrated by the
masses. Where are the sensitive ones now? How horrible it must be for those
three-hundred-million not to have their birthday recognized on calendar faces,
not to be sung to, danced to, not to have billions of hot dogs eaten, and two
Chevies purchased.
It’s time for a change, past time, if you really are a
sensitive one. Therefore, I ask, ever so humbly, that we set aside a third
Monday, I think April would be a good month for that, to celebrate Americans’
Day. We can, everyone of us, take the day off to reflect deeply, maybe even
genuflect deeply, our contribution to the magnificence of America, and eat cake
and hot dogs, go to a ballgame, and buy a Chevrolet.
Until next time, read good books and stay regular
Johnny Gunn, member, Western Fictioneers
Will you join me on facebook from time to time?
Or Tweet with me, darlin’?
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