OK, so I've written way too much about my birthday on here, which sort of shoots my assertion that I don't like birthday or drawing a lot of attention to them. And since is the first October that has passed on this here particular blog, you have no evidence to the contrary. So, you just have to take my word that I'm not a big fan of birthdays.
There is a reason for that. I think I'm mentioned that a bit before, but let me just say that my family sucks at birthdays. We are pathetic. We don't do cards. We don't do gifts. As often as not we don't even call to wish a happy birthday.
I've done my damnedest to break that pattern with my daughter. The time around her birthday has been a special time for us. Well, I can't actually speak for her, and who knows what a teenage girl's response to a query about how special her birthday is with her biological father. But it's a safe bet, there would be some eye-rolling involved.
But since she started school, her birthday has generally followed her school's spring vacations. And since I was living in California for the last 10 years, I have made it a tradition to try to spend her spring vacation and/or birthday with her whenever possible. That got screwed up a couple of years ago, when I got hauled off to Florida for my ex's sister's wedding. We were going to try to take my daughter with us, but a big trip like that for a week to spend time with people she didn't even know wasn't her idea of fun. The Florida beaches for spring break sounded good in theory, but as the date drew near, she opted out. I didn't blame her. I would have opted out too if I thought all my body parts would have remained attached to their rightful locations.
But the guilt of not being able to see my daughter near her birthday was pretty powerful and in an attempt to (over) compensate I bought her her first set of really nice earrings. I've been told you can't buy love, but until I see proof I'm taking no chances.
All that is a way of saying I've tried to make birthdays a fairly big deal for my daughter. They were never a big deal in our house, and as a kid, particularly as a teenager, that was a big deal with me. I'm not sure I've ever gotten over it. In fact I'm sure I haven't. There is still a lot of not-so latent hostility on my part. I now "forget" the birthdays of my parents, and brothers regularly. I mean, I know when they are, I just often choose not to recognize them. I do try to call my mom at least. She knows a slight when she feels one, and I don't need that guilt. And my parents' wedding anniversary and my dad's birthday are only a couple of days apart. So I try to kill two holidays with one call. But I don't do gifts for them. They don't do gifts for me either. It's a pretty equitable arrangement, if warped.
It used to really bug me when friends, some of them not much more than casual acquaintances really, recognized my birthday in a bigger way than my family did. Pissed me off actually. My friends say or do something nice and I react with more resentment toward my parents. Not good.
So, for many years I have tried to just ignore my birthday as much as possible. Oh, sure, I would still hope to find a card in the mailbox, but I would do my best not to expect one or get bent out of shame when none came. Instead I would try to do something for myself on my birthday and call it good. When possible, I would take the day off from work, which can be a nice little gift in and of itself. Sometimes I'd go for a drive. Maybe I'd see 2 or 3 movies in one day at the theater. Spring for a nice dinner for myself. One year I bought myself a computer and a digital camera to replace the home computer that had fried that fall. A couple of years I made plans to attend an air show at Edwards Air Force Base.
One year, my parent came to visit me in California. I had told my dad about the Edwards Air Show and he thought that sounded like a good excuse for a road trip. It was the only time my mom ever came to California in the 10 years I lived there. Dad made a few visits, taking detours on business trips and the like. He even came down to help me move from Central California to Palm Springs and he made at least one other visit while I was in Palm Springs. But that one trip was all mom managed to make in a decade. Oh, she had traveled to Europe once, Australia a couple of times, but California just wasn't in the cards I guess.
Anyway, my parents were visiting and we went out to dinner. The date: Oct. 17, 1997. During dinner Dad looks at his watch and says something like "What's the date today?"
Normally, I have to look at the calendar setting on my watch too, no matter how many times I've checked the date already, but that date I know. I had it cold.
"October 17th," I said.
"October? Don't you have a birthday coming up pretty soon?"
Now, if my dad had a better sense of humor, I might have thought he was pulling my leg. Dad's just not that funny. Not intentionally anyway.
"Yea." I said.
"When is it?"
About that time mom pipes in.
"It's today," she said. Well, at least she remembered. A little late, but hey.
So, anyway, birthdays I've come to expect nothing in recognition and have been rarely disappointed. And not to lay all the guilt on my folks, I've never got much in the way of recognition for birthdays or Father's Day from my daughter or her mom either. I was pretty sure they didn't even know when my birthday was.
This year, I got lots of pleasant surprises for my birthday. Some readers of this blog were kind enough to leave birthday wishes after I confessed my arrival at the big Four-Oh. I got three birthday cards from two different people (Brat sent me two. I'm not sure, but I think maybe she has a crush on me). I got birthday e-mails from one current coworker and two former coworkers. And to top it all off, I got a text message birthday wish from the guy that was my best friend from the time we were in grade school through being roommates in college, which completely blew me a way.
But that wasn't all. My daughter's mom sent me a text message wishing me a happy birthday, and my daughter did too (probably at her mother's urging, but I was thrilled none-the-less).
And when I got home from the concert, there was an e-mail in my mailbox from my mom, with birthday wishes from her and the rest of the family.
Yea, sometimes the people you love can rip your heart out without even trying. But sometimes they surprise you too.
Turning 40 may just have been the best birthday yet.
Birthday
Showing posts with label Birthday. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Birthday. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
Monday, October 17, 2005
An intimate birthday gift from Sheryl Crow
Concert ticket: $80.85
Parking at the Rose Garden Arena in Portland: $20
Draft microbrew beer: $8
Spending your birthday evening being serenaded by Sheryl Crow: Priceless
It’s been quite the day, so in an attempt to share as much detail as I can about the Sheryl Crow concert, we bring you this special All-Sheryl-Crow-edition of the Digital Fishwrap Rainbow Roll. Settle in folks, this is a bit long.
***
And, because I’m sure someone will be dying to know after comments made in an earlier post, of course biker boy, the instigator behind the “Live Strong” cancer awareness bracelet and the huge rock Sheryl was sporting on her left-hand ring finger, Lance Armstrong himself was at the show.
And no I didn’t kick his ass, or strangle him with my bracelet, but the boy certainly pushed his luck at flaunting himself with the object of my unrequited musical crush.
I first spotted Armstrong wearing a black shirt and ballcap, off on the left side of the stage behind the soundboard, where a guitar mechanic was tuning instruments for Sheryl during the performance. No one else seated around me seemed to spot the seven-time Tour de France winner though.
Then, in between songs, Armstrong starts coming onto the stage carrying a guitar. I turned to the guy next to me and said, “Look who is bringing Sheryl her guitar.” The guy didn’t get it at first. So I repeated it in a different way. “Do you recognize the guy bringing her her guitar?” About that time a buzz went up from the audience, mostly the women. Then there was a completely unnecessary display of hugging and kissing right there on center stage.
Sheryl made a joke about how it was hard to find good help and something about that being the most expensive guitar tech she ever had, which drew a laugh from the audience. She never introduced him though, even though she mentioned him by name a couple of times during the show. Then Sheryl and the band launched into “All I Wanna Do,” which was the song that brought Crow and her music to my attention and spawned the crush that has now lasted more than a decade. Obviously, the special nature and aura of positive feelings and emotions that song has evoked for me over the years is not forever tainted with Lance Armstrong kooties. I may never recover.
Biker boy made another appearance onstage during one of the encores when Sheryl signaled for him to join her on stage, and the two briefly danced during the musical solo. I saw visions of myself sprinting the nine rows to the stage and tackling Armstrong in a fit of rage, but then the coward skulked back off stage to hide inside the concert security perimeter.
Crow fronted a 5-piece band and an 11-piece string section, producing a sound capable of rock ’n’ roll power and orchestral complexity, and a hint of country twang at one point.
Crow herself played acoustic, electric and bass guitar, piano and even a little harmonica thrown in.
The song list went deep into selections from Crow’s latest album “Wildflower,” particularly early in the show. I’m not 100 percent certain, my memory may be influence by the fact that I listened to the CD on the way to the concert, but I believe she played every single song on the new album. She may have missed one or two. I lost count during the show at about 7 or 8 songs off the news album.
But there were plenty of old favorites on the playlist as well. Of the 16 songs (yes there are 17 tracks, but one song is on there in two different versions) on her “The Very Best of Sheryl Crow” album, Crow and company played a dozen or more songs.
Notably absent from the playlist were the hit singles “Leaving Las Vegas,” “Steve McQueen.”
Crow played two encores for the Portland audience, but many in the crowd seemed on the verge of bolting, some even walking toward the exits, willing to walk out before the house lights were raised and Crow’s second curtain call.
The wait for the first encore was a tad long, but when Sheryl came out on stage in a different outfit, the lag time between stage departure and reemergence was easier to understand. Sheryl ditched the dress for a pair of jeans and tank top T-shirt, and lost the high heals in favor of some biker-chick high-heel sandals.
Among the songs in the encore sets were Elton John’s “Levon,” “Soak Up The Sun” and her post-9/11 inspired “Safe And Sound.”
The concert itself had a much more intimate feel than the Brad Paisley/Sara Evans/SugarLand show I’d attended at the Rose Garden just a few weeks earlier. This seemed more like a show in a Las Vegas showroom venue than a major sports arena. The stage was set sideways on the arena floor, and there were far fewer seats sold for Sheryl’s show than the country concert. A good portion of the arena was actually curtained off, with maybe about half the seating capacity used.
There were no video screens showing Sheryl’s face. There were a couple of video backdrops, but those were used to show images and graphics related to some of the song, almost like a music video, rather than showing the performer sitting far from the stage. But the way the seating was set up, no one really seamed far from the stage.
Of course my impression of intimacy may have been colored by the fact that I was on the arena floor, a mere nine rows from the stage, with an excellent view of Sheryl, her outfit, her legs, her… well, you get the idea.
I could not find a souvenir vendor at the show anywhere. I was so looking forward to getting a Sheryl Crow T-shirt, so I could always have her lips close to my heart. But I walked through a fair amount of the Rose Garden concourse and didn’t see a booth anywhere. There was food. There was beer. There was booze. But no T-shirt booth. Oh, sure, I would have bitched about paying some outrageous price for a shirt. But for Sheryl, it would have been worth it.
That, and I know how hot women find it when middle-aged men where apparel with the likeness of another woman on it. I’m sure my dating life really would have picked up with my beer gut wrapped in a silkscreen portrait of Sheryl. Talk about a babe magnet! Does anyone even say babe magnet anymore?
Then, almost exactly 2 hours after the first note was played, the show came to an end. It was the climax to a great day. Couldn’t have been better, well, except for that whole having to work thing. And an hour after the show ended I was back home. But that certainly wasn’t the end of the excitement.
Shortly after arriving home, the evening is capped by a police car ripping through the apartment complex where I live at a high rate of speed, lights and sirens going, apparently in pursuit of someone. The car circled much of the complex before coming to a stop a ways down the lot. A few minutes later several more patrol cars showed up.
Nothing like a little crime drama to add a little extra spice to an already exciting day. There I was, standing outside in the parking lot with the neighbors, swapping details about what we saw and heard, and gawking down the way to see if we could see what was going on. Not daring to venture too close, lest there be weapons drawn and boogie-men, with or without badges, running loose.
This will certainly be a birthday I will not soon forget.
Sheryl Crow
Lance Armstrong
Live music
Portland, Ore.
Birthday
Parking at the Rose Garden Arena in Portland: $20
Draft microbrew beer: $8
Spending your birthday evening being serenaded by Sheryl Crow: Priceless
It’s been quite the day, so in an attempt to share as much detail as I can about the Sheryl Crow concert, we bring you this special All-Sheryl-Crow-edition of the Digital Fishwrap Rainbow Roll. Settle in folks, this is a bit long.
***
Sheryl Crow took the stage at the Rose Garden arena at about 8:25 p.m. There was no opening act. No introduction from the wings. Just the dimming of the house lights, the lifting of curtains surrounding the stage, and Crow and her band taking the stage, belting out the first lines and licks of the first song of the night.
Crow was the picture of the casual pop songstress, wearing a white summer dress with a pleated hemline, which showed off her slender, verging on skinny, legs from just above the knee all the way down to her strappy high-healed shoes. But her vocals left no doubt this singer has roots in rock and blues and she packs some powerful pipes in a slender frame. I have to say, ordinarily I like a woman with some meat on her bones. A little junk in the trunk. But Crow defies what I would ordinarily describe as the ideal. Maybe it’s the hair. Maybe it’s the eyes. The lips certainly have something to do with it. And my God, the voice is stunning. And Sheryl and I did have one matching accessory item, or lovely yellow Live Strong bracelets.
Crow was the picture of the casual pop songstress, wearing a white summer dress with a pleated hemline, which showed off her slender, verging on skinny, legs from just above the knee all the way down to her strappy high-healed shoes. But her vocals left no doubt this singer has roots in rock and blues and she packs some powerful pipes in a slender frame. I have to say, ordinarily I like a woman with some meat on her bones. A little junk in the trunk. But Crow defies what I would ordinarily describe as the ideal. Maybe it’s the hair. Maybe it’s the eyes. The lips certainly have something to do with it. And my God, the voice is stunning. And Sheryl and I did have one matching accessory item, or lovely yellow Live Strong bracelets.
***
And, because I’m sure someone will be dying to know after comments made in an earlier post, of course biker boy, the instigator behind the “Live Strong” cancer awareness bracelet and the huge rock Sheryl was sporting on her left-hand ring finger, Lance Armstrong himself was at the show.
And no I didn’t kick his ass, or strangle him with my bracelet, but the boy certainly pushed his luck at flaunting himself with the object of my unrequited musical crush.
I first spotted Armstrong wearing a black shirt and ballcap, off on the left side of the stage behind the soundboard, where a guitar mechanic was tuning instruments for Sheryl during the performance. No one else seated around me seemed to spot the seven-time Tour de France winner though.
Then, in between songs, Armstrong starts coming onto the stage carrying a guitar. I turned to the guy next to me and said, “Look who is bringing Sheryl her guitar.” The guy didn’t get it at first. So I repeated it in a different way. “Do you recognize the guy bringing her her guitar?” About that time a buzz went up from the audience, mostly the women. Then there was a completely unnecessary display of hugging and kissing right there on center stage.
Sheryl made a joke about how it was hard to find good help and something about that being the most expensive guitar tech she ever had, which drew a laugh from the audience. She never introduced him though, even though she mentioned him by name a couple of times during the show. Then Sheryl and the band launched into “All I Wanna Do,” which was the song that brought Crow and her music to my attention and spawned the crush that has now lasted more than a decade. Obviously, the special nature and aura of positive feelings and emotions that song has evoked for me over the years is not forever tainted with Lance Armstrong kooties. I may never recover.
Biker boy made another appearance onstage during one of the encores when Sheryl signaled for him to join her on stage, and the two briefly danced during the musical solo. I saw visions of myself sprinting the nine rows to the stage and tackling Armstrong in a fit of rage, but then the coward skulked back off stage to hide inside the concert security perimeter.
***
Crow fronted a 5-piece band and an 11-piece string section, producing a sound capable of rock ’n’ roll power and orchestral complexity, and a hint of country twang at one point.
Crow herself played acoustic, electric and bass guitar, piano and even a little harmonica thrown in.
The song list went deep into selections from Crow’s latest album “Wildflower,” particularly early in the show. I’m not 100 percent certain, my memory may be influence by the fact that I listened to the CD on the way to the concert, but I believe she played every single song on the new album. She may have missed one or two. I lost count during the show at about 7 or 8 songs off the news album.
But there were plenty of old favorites on the playlist as well. Of the 16 songs (yes there are 17 tracks, but one song is on there in two different versions) on her “The Very Best of Sheryl Crow” album, Crow and company played a dozen or more songs.
Notably absent from the playlist were the hit singles “Leaving Las Vegas,” “Steve McQueen.”
***
Crow played two encores for the Portland audience, but many in the crowd seemed on the verge of bolting, some even walking toward the exits, willing to walk out before the house lights were raised and Crow’s second curtain call.
The wait for the first encore was a tad long, but when Sheryl came out on stage in a different outfit, the lag time between stage departure and reemergence was easier to understand. Sheryl ditched the dress for a pair of jeans and tank top T-shirt, and lost the high heals in favor of some biker-chick high-heel sandals.
Among the songs in the encore sets were Elton John’s “Levon,” “Soak Up The Sun” and her post-9/11 inspired “Safe And Sound.”
***
The concert itself had a much more intimate feel than the Brad Paisley/Sara Evans/SugarLand show I’d attended at the Rose Garden just a few weeks earlier. This seemed more like a show in a Las Vegas showroom venue than a major sports arena. The stage was set sideways on the arena floor, and there were far fewer seats sold for Sheryl’s show than the country concert. A good portion of the arena was actually curtained off, with maybe about half the seating capacity used.
There were no video screens showing Sheryl’s face. There were a couple of video backdrops, but those were used to show images and graphics related to some of the song, almost like a music video, rather than showing the performer sitting far from the stage. But the way the seating was set up, no one really seamed far from the stage.
Of course my impression of intimacy may have been colored by the fact that I was on the arena floor, a mere nine rows from the stage, with an excellent view of Sheryl, her outfit, her legs, her… well, you get the idea.
***
I could not find a souvenir vendor at the show anywhere. I was so looking forward to getting a Sheryl Crow T-shirt, so I could always have her lips close to my heart. But I walked through a fair amount of the Rose Garden concourse and didn’t see a booth anywhere. There was food. There was beer. There was booze. But no T-shirt booth. Oh, sure, I would have bitched about paying some outrageous price for a shirt. But for Sheryl, it would have been worth it.
That, and I know how hot women find it when middle-aged men where apparel with the likeness of another woman on it. I’m sure my dating life really would have picked up with my beer gut wrapped in a silkscreen portrait of Sheryl. Talk about a babe magnet! Does anyone even say babe magnet anymore?
***
Then, almost exactly 2 hours after the first note was played, the show came to an end. It was the climax to a great day. Couldn’t have been better, well, except for that whole having to work thing. And an hour after the show ended I was back home. But that certainly wasn’t the end of the excitement.
Shortly after arriving home, the evening is capped by a police car ripping through the apartment complex where I live at a high rate of speed, lights and sirens going, apparently in pursuit of someone. The car circled much of the complex before coming to a stop a ways down the lot. A few minutes later several more patrol cars showed up.
Nothing like a little crime drama to add a little extra spice to an already exciting day. There I was, standing outside in the parking lot with the neighbors, swapping details about what we saw and heard, and gawking down the way to see if we could see what was going on. Not daring to venture too close, lest there be weapons drawn and boogie-men, with or without badges, running loose.
This will certainly be a birthday I will not soon forget.
Lance Armstrong
Live music
Portland, Ore.
Birthday
Much too old to feel this damn young
Forty years ago today, in the predawn hours, I made my entrance in the world and I’ve been working to fuck it up ever since. How 'm I doing so far?
Milestone dates offer an opportunity for reflection and I am not immune to looking back in the rear view mirror to see what there is to see.
The world has seen a lot of changes in those 40 years. During my lifetime the bulk of the Vietnam war was fought. Man walked on the moon for the first time. Computers went from being the size of rooms to being so small you can carry them in a briefcase or the palm of your hand.. Televisions went from being large pieces of furniture with small black-and-white picture tubes to flat color monitors you can hang on your wall. An American president, Richard Nixon, resigned in disgrace over the cover up of a burglary with a political motive. Telephones when from being a luxury in a home to being a fashion accessory adorning people’s belts and pocketbooks and all too frequently held up to their heads while driving down the road.
The King of Rock and Roll, Elvis Presley, got married, made a musical comeback, got divorced and died all within the span of about 10 years. Disco came and went. And music went from being something you listened to, to something you watched, to something you could carry around on a little device not much bigger than a cigarette lighter.
The great communist threat, the Soviet Union, crumbled and the Cold War ended, only to be replaced with a lot of smaller, hotter skirmishes around the globe. Civil rights became a reality, but bigotry still remains. The dream of all men (and women) being equal in America is closer to being realized today than ever before and still too far from real for those black or Latino or poor or gay or female or some other of ethnic or social minority here in America.
It’s a bit humbling to learn that men who had an impact on the world during my lifetime did so by the time they were the age I am now and many of them had made their exit from life’s stage at an all-too-young age.
Civil rights leader Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated at the age 39. Robert Kennedy was assassinated at the age of 42 during his campaign for president. Elvis was 42 when he died. John Lennon was 40.
That is not to say that I am particularly thinking about, or consumed with, thoughts of mortality on this day. I’m not worried about the end, nor am I afraid it may be close at hand. I don’t know if my best days are behind me or yet to come. But I do think that the days keep getting better, more fulfilling.
I used to wonder a lot about what my destiny was and what my legacy on this earth would be, but I’ve come to realize that if I achieve not one more thing in this world, I leave a proud legacy in my daughter, who is now 14. She is my greatest source of joy and pride. I am fortunate to have played a part in giving her life, but she has most certainly changed my life for the better. More importantly she has made me want to make life better for her generation, even if it’s only in some small way.
Over the years I’ve been fortunate to experience the love of family, friends and of a good woman – and a few bad ones too.
It’s not world peace, but it’s not a bad gig either.
So, thanks for stopping by today and putting up with my rambling, disjointed post. It’s hard to put 40 years into perspective. I think my dearest Brat did a better job with her post today, although don’t believe everything you read over there. Thanks Brat for the kind things you said and as for the rest, I’ll get even.
And thank you for stopping by today.
By the way, here are a few other folks who were born on Oct. 17 over the years:
Jupiter Hammon, the first published black U.S. poet (1711); one of Marilyn Monroe’s husbands, the late author and playwright Arthur Miller (1915); the late actress and screen siren Rita Hayworth (1918); Robert Craig Knievel, better known as motorcycle stuntman and daredevil Evel Knievel (1938); Actress Margot Kidder (1948). Some of the other celebrities and notables who have birthdays today are actresses Marsha Hunt, Beverly Garland, Julie Adams; actors Tom Poston, Michael McKean; George Wendt, Bill Hudson, Sam Bottoms, Norm Macdonald; singers Earl Thomas Conley, Jim Seals, Gary Puckett, Alan Jackson, Marshall “Eminem” Mathers, Wyclef Jean and Ziggy Marley.
Not a bad bunch of Libras to be associated with.
Milestones
Birthday
Middle age
Over the hill
Milestone dates offer an opportunity for reflection and I am not immune to looking back in the rear view mirror to see what there is to see.
The world has seen a lot of changes in those 40 years. During my lifetime the bulk of the Vietnam war was fought. Man walked on the moon for the first time. Computers went from being the size of rooms to being so small you can carry them in a briefcase or the palm of your hand.. Televisions went from being large pieces of furniture with small black-and-white picture tubes to flat color monitors you can hang on your wall. An American president, Richard Nixon, resigned in disgrace over the cover up of a burglary with a political motive. Telephones when from being a luxury in a home to being a fashion accessory adorning people’s belts and pocketbooks and all too frequently held up to their heads while driving down the road.
The King of Rock and Roll, Elvis Presley, got married, made a musical comeback, got divorced and died all within the span of about 10 years. Disco came and went. And music went from being something you listened to, to something you watched, to something you could carry around on a little device not much bigger than a cigarette lighter.
The great communist threat, the Soviet Union, crumbled and the Cold War ended, only to be replaced with a lot of smaller, hotter skirmishes around the globe. Civil rights became a reality, but bigotry still remains. The dream of all men (and women) being equal in America is closer to being realized today than ever before and still too far from real for those black or Latino or poor or gay or female or some other of ethnic or social minority here in America.
It’s a bit humbling to learn that men who had an impact on the world during my lifetime did so by the time they were the age I am now and many of them had made their exit from life’s stage at an all-too-young age.
Civil rights leader Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated at the age 39. Robert Kennedy was assassinated at the age of 42 during his campaign for president. Elvis was 42 when he died. John Lennon was 40.
That is not to say that I am particularly thinking about, or consumed with, thoughts of mortality on this day. I’m not worried about the end, nor am I afraid it may be close at hand. I don’t know if my best days are behind me or yet to come. But I do think that the days keep getting better, more fulfilling.
I used to wonder a lot about what my destiny was and what my legacy on this earth would be, but I’ve come to realize that if I achieve not one more thing in this world, I leave a proud legacy in my daughter, who is now 14. She is my greatest source of joy and pride. I am fortunate to have played a part in giving her life, but she has most certainly changed my life for the better. More importantly she has made me want to make life better for her generation, even if it’s only in some small way.
Over the years I’ve been fortunate to experience the love of family, friends and of a good woman – and a few bad ones too.
It’s not world peace, but it’s not a bad gig either.
So, thanks for stopping by today and putting up with my rambling, disjointed post. It’s hard to put 40 years into perspective. I think my dearest Brat did a better job with her post today, although don’t believe everything you read over there. Thanks Brat for the kind things you said and as for the rest, I’ll get even.
And thank you for stopping by today.
By the way, here are a few other folks who were born on Oct. 17 over the years:
Jupiter Hammon, the first published black U.S. poet (1711); one of Marilyn Monroe’s husbands, the late author and playwright Arthur Miller (1915); the late actress and screen siren Rita Hayworth (1918); Robert Craig Knievel, better known as motorcycle stuntman and daredevil Evel Knievel (1938); Actress Margot Kidder (1948). Some of the other celebrities and notables who have birthdays today are actresses Marsha Hunt, Beverly Garland, Julie Adams; actors Tom Poston, Michael McKean; George Wendt, Bill Hudson, Sam Bottoms, Norm Macdonald; singers Earl Thomas Conley, Jim Seals, Gary Puckett, Alan Jackson, Marshall “Eminem” Mathers, Wyclef Jean and Ziggy Marley.
Not a bad bunch of Libras to be associated with.
Milestones
Birthday
Middle age
Over the hill
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