Another Year
Another birthday has rolled by. Another day in which my age is exactly so many years, and not x years, x months, and x days. Each day is really a new anniversary of our being. In Spain birthdays weren't celebrated as much as saints' days were. It used to be once, that everyone was named for a saint or someone in the Bible. Scratch the old calendars deep enough, and you'll probably even find a Saint Ezekiel or Saint Sarah. People used to celebrate their name days. During the fifties and sixties it became the norm that almost every girl had Maria woven into their name and almost every boy had José. So the saint's day of most men was Saint Joseph's day, March 19th. And the women's was the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary, August 15th. Those whose name didn't happen to have a saint attached to it, (the least) celebrated their name day on All Saint's Day. Those that had compound names had two or more days of celebration (me). But then the dictators...