Today is of course Monday, but it is a special Monday, because on this date in 1950, my father, James T. Hannon, was born. Now, I could go for days about my dad, but that’s the good stuff I’m saving for the memoir I write in the twilight of my career. However, the tiny story I will share today is why my father’s birthday has always been important to me: because *I* am important to me, and he told me once that his birthday was also my half-birthday. My greedy small self loved that I got a little focus as well, so I would gleefully look forward to his birthday as a youngster for this reason. Once, I recall a friend telling me it was their father’s birthday, and me wishing them a happy half-birthday. They were very confused as their birthday was in March and this was in June. That’s when I realized that not everyone’s dad’s birthday was their half birthday-just mine. Whoops.
Sidebar, funny story, my sister also had a similar mix-up. She used to think, because her birthday is on Halloween and everyone would dress in costume, that this was typical birthday party attire. She was also corrected by a classmate. (I truly do not think anything properly made it though our eardrums as kids. It was just one giant game of “Telephone.”)
As I got older and less selfish, I came to appreciate my father’s birthday not just because it was the day that gave me the man, but because in our house it was the start of the Christmas holiday. Mom never put the tree up beforehand, which bothered me because everyone I knew did right after Thanksgiving. She would wait until Dad’s birthday, and by that weekend everything would be magical. He has become more lax over the years and they also have a fake tree now, so decorations go up earlier, but it still feels like the kickoff to Christmas for me.
Anyway…today is my half-birthday! And also, the birthday of my daddio, the best man I know. (Sorry Mark. No, not really…you know what’s what.)