I get my kicks on Route 66

Annually on this date, I muse about how I will remember how old I am. It’s not a number that’s divisible by ten or even five.

Roger and Trudy

Here I am with my mother, Trudy Green on my birthday in 2005. To be clear, I wasn’t dressed up for my natal day.

Actually, it was also the wedding day of my first niece, Rebecca Jade, to Rico Curtis, which I wrote about here. I noted that my mom wished me a happy birthday, first thing in the morning. What I didn’t mention was that no one else did that day, even my sister.

I didn’t mind (much) because their subsequent mortification was somewhat worth it. And, of course, mom remembering the birth date of her first born was golden.

Annually on this date, I muse about how I will remember how old I am. It’s not a number that’s divisible by ten or even five.

But it does have two things going for it. Well, four:
1) a repeating digit
2)
a famous U.S. highway which runs from Chicago to Los Angeles, though black Americans were not nearly as nostalgic about it
3)
a TV show (1960-1964) about traveling said highway with Martin Milner, and George Maharis or Glenn Corbett, which I used to watch
4) a famous song about said highway, written by Bobby Troup in 1946

Since I don’t blog on my birthday, I’ll leave you with versions of a certain song
Nat King Cole, mom’s favorite artist
Bing Crosby and The Andrews Sisters
Chuck Berry
The Rolling Stones
Them
Dr. Feelgood
Asleep at the Wheel
Glenn Frey

There are plenty more versions. Happy birthday to me. I’m how old again? And happy 14th anniversary to Rebecca and Rico!