Every year, my dad and his brother and law haul themselves up north for a hunting trip–away from work, traffic and any hint of a cell phone signal for a solid week.
Every year, this trip coincides with my father’s birthday.
So every October 5th, he’s up there in Yooperland, Michigan where no one but my Uncle Carl can so much as whisper to him that he’s another year older.
And every year, I forget all about his birthday until my brother calls and leaves a voicemail to remind me.
So every year, I end up writing some elaborate card or drawing something at the drafting table to make up for all that forgetting, such as this:
Every year, my wife tells me that I should just buy a pile of “belated birthday” cards in January and send one whenever I happen to remember that someone had a birthday recently.
Every year, I think she’s right.