Growing up, I didn’t pay much attention to others’ birthdays. Perhaps I should put that in the present tense as I still don’t know my aunts’ birthdays.
But I always got a little helper as to my father’s birthday, as the Edmund Fitzgerald sank on his birthday, so on or right before his birthday, a radio station would play the song or a news source would recount the story.
The Milwaukee Journal-Sentinel reminds me that my father would be seventy years old tomorrow.