Raymond's Birthday

I never knew either of my grandfathers, and I really don't know much about them either. My mother knew little about her father, as he died when she was only two. One of the coolest things I know about him is that he was born on Leap Day. I am generally fascinated by the special and/or unusual things in life, and I think that qualifies as both. Today would have been his 122nd birthday (I think). I'm not entirely sure of the year of his birth; I could find out, but that seems like a lot of trouble at the moment. Instead, I will just assume I have the year right and celebrate his special day.

My grandfather, having been born on a day that comes around only once every four years, had celebrated a mere twelve birthdays when he passed. How strange to have been forty-eight and only seen twelve birthdays! I know there are other people born on Leap Day, and I wonder how they celebrate their birthdays. On February 28? March 1? I wonder when and how he celebrated, if he did at all. I'm not sure how special "special days" were treated back in those times, when daily life was probably a big chore. I think my grandfather's family was better off financially than my grandmother's; in fact, I'm quite certain of it. I'm sure I've mentioned before that my grandmother grew up, the first of eight children, on a farm that didn't produce much. And yet she and (most of) her siblings went on to make nice lives for themselves.

My grandfather's mother owned a construction company, perhaps inherited from her husband or father. She owned several houses in DC and, from what I've heard, managed them with an iron fist. My mother said her grandmother wasn't an especially kind woman. (She and my grandmother lived with her for a time after my grandfather died and, I think, before he died.) The house my grandfather (and later my mother and grandmother) lived in was on F Street in Washington, DC. We tried to find it once, using data from old census reports, but it appears to have been demolished to make room for an on-ramp. Anyway, my eldest son has my grandfather's name, Raymond, as a middle name. It was my way of paying tribute to someone whom I wish I'd had the chance to meet, and it was also a tribute to my grandmother, who never remarried and raised my mother mostly alone, with some help from family members.

Today I am thinking about my grandfather and wishing him a happy birthday. I guess he'd today he'd be thirty-one. But my math might be off a little on that. Here's to Raymond!