George and Me

On February 22, 1732 George Washington was born on a plantation near Fredericksburg, Virginia. And on the same date in 1949, I was born in Canyon.

Have always been proud of the association with our first president. As have other friends of mine who share the same birthday.

Seems we all grew up having Washington-themed parties, which meant red, white and blue cakes decorated with cherry trees. I know the story about young George cutting down his father’s tree turned out to be myth, but we still believe it. That is, we believe our hero would have fessed up, should he have done the deed, and should his father have asked.

We’re protective of our famous birthday-sharer like that. Which is why we were upset with the 90th Congress, when, in 1968, they changed the celebration of George’s birthday to the third Monday in February. To give three-day holidays to government employees, they said.

Pleeeze.

Then, some states (12 to be exact) changed the name to President’s Day (to include Lincoln, they said). Hey, we’re dealing with national pride here. Might as well change the 4th of July to the 1st Monday in . . . you see my point.

Anyway, today’s blog is written in honor of my favorite national hero, who just happens to share my birthday. Happy 278th, George!