December 13, 2011 by David Gillaspie
by David Gillaspie
What’s more pathetic than listening to a December-born whiner complain about being so close to Christmas?
Don’t get them started. They either won’t shut-up, or they toss it off like they just realized they share the same birth month as Jesus.
The variations are endless, but you have to give the two extremes credit for framing the argument.
First the one who can’t find their off-switch: the older they are, the funnier they are because the bitterness has worn their hard edges smooth.
“The next time I get a birthday/Christmas bag of socks, I’m throwing them out the window.”
This is a good thing if they are at your place. A sock bag won’t break the window, and since it is December you don’t need freezing air blowing through your hovel.
When you shop for the senior December birthday, keep it soft. Avoid the liquor store, though anyone throwing Crown Royal through your window deserves to follow it.
“No one else gets birthday presents wrapped in Christmas paper.”
It’s a present? Why would anyone complain about getting a present? If your parents give you an out-dated sound system from a brand you’ve never heard of, just say thanks. They made the effort for you. It plays 8-track tapes and you don’t know what those are?
Don’t blame them for being stuck in the 70’s.
When you unwrap the next gift and it’s a plastic box with a label for David Gates and Bread, that’s your new soundtrack. Push that 8-track memory into the horizontal rectangle slot and ask your folks where they keep their high school annuals.
One look at the parents and their classmates ought to be enough to answer any further questions.
“If I was born under a special star, I’d never know because it rains all the time.”
You were born under a special star. Check it out on the astrology charts. You’re a Sagittarius. Stop acting like a Feces.
If you come from a larger sized family and two members have birthdays close together, try to remember how hard it was for them. Even if they both got the same presents, one of them will think they were cheated and start crying.
This is your cue to start crying, too. Do that often enough and you’ll get the pity present on their birthdays.
Score for you.
“I just hate it when I get Christmas cards turned into birthday cards.”
Listen, there’s nothing wrong with a little Sharpie customization. Unless it says “Have A Merry
Christmas BIRTHDAY”, stop complaining. Show a little class and don’t try to shake a check out of the envelope before reading the card. When it’s a Christmas card for your birthday, it is the thought that matters.
The best solution for the December birthday bunch is hanging out with others in the same boat. You’re not alone. Be a good listener and you’ll hear things like, “What were my parents thinking? Having a baby in winter is not good animal husbandry, let alone family planning.”
Maybe they were thinking they missed each other?
If your old man hitch-hiked twenty hours from the Presidio, taking the chance of going AWOL from his Marine duties because your mom called with a frantic jag in her voice telling him your older brother won’t stop chewing through the bars of his crib and hitting his head on the floor once he breaks out, something good has to happen.
March weather can be dicey, but the old jarhead answers the call to family duty above the Corps, and you still complain about a December birthday?
They get a babysitter they can’t afford and spend the night in the Westward Ho Motel before The Sarge thumbs it back to San Francisco? Step back and be glad they are your parents.
The next time you’re out and about, take note of the moms with the psycho babies tearing up everything within reach. Listen to them scream their guts out with their shrill pipes. Notice how frazzled and worn down the moms appear.
This person needs a break.
Give your mom credit for calling your dad and not the nice man from the green stamp store who makes house calls to tune the new radio she picked up. You’re lucky to know who your parents are.
Then give your old man credit for risking an emergency trip home instead of shrugging it off after a night at the Dew Drop Inn with liquor in the front and poker in the back. Your parents got it done, now it’s your turn.
If you do have to comment on your December birthday, make it a good one.
“It’s an honor to share the same birth month as the Prince of Peace. Thank you, Mom. Thank you, Dad. And thank you, Jesus.”
That’ll do just fine.