Elinor Nauen

The curse of the idiot savant is remembering birthdays of ex-boyfriends who I would rather not think about at all. And the birthdays of half of my second-grade class (I'm looking at you, Judi "October 12" Snook). And the birthdays of just about everybody who ever told me their birthday (unless they were born in July—those don't stick).  Read More 

Yes, it's that day of the year again, when I put on the birthday hat. This year, someone got the idea that my birthday was earlier this week, & said something on Facebook, so that special excitement started pouring in early. Which was a little embarrassing, even for me, who loves my birthday beyond reason.

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Why do birthdays cluster? I know lots of people born on November 3, none on November 2. Lots on October 21, nobody on October 22. And so on.

Could it possibly mean anything?

I have to say (& repeat & say again): I love my birthday.

I love seeing the date FEBRUARY 18 on a newspaper or even in my computer's top bar. I love telling people & their little spark of pleasure in sharing my day. I love the spontaneous: a little gift at a shop where I was picking something up, and the planned: a nice Catalan lunch with my man. I love all the well wishes from so many parts of my life. I love being queen for the day.

I also love turning the birthday magic over to my cousin & a couple of other February 19ers, which I'll do in six & a half hours.  Read More 

The poem of the day was Byron's "So we'll go no more a-roving," the second line of which serves as the title for my long poem in ottava rima: So Late into the Night. I mentioned this on Facebook & Gyorgyi Voros posted a link to Leonard Cohen singing the poem. Yeah!

The quote of the day was from Tom Robbins: "When they tell you to grow up, they mean stop growing." So I quit feeling goofy for enjoying my birthday so much. For waking up early, excited. One day to be frivolous, what's the big deal?

It snowed & then a bit of rain & then it got sunny. The weather trifecta.  Read More 

Another part of the pleasure is that they're exactly one day & then you get out of the way for whoever was born on February 19 or May 30 or whenever. You get your special day (for something random that you had nothing to do with) & then you have no choice but to let go of it. It's like finding a $20 bill lying on the ground--cool but inconsequential.  Read More 

Hear that lonesome whippoorwill
He sounds all glazed with rain
Someone ate the plums in the fridge
I'm so lonesome I need not explain

David McGimpsey did this mashup the Williams boys, Bill & Hank, who share a birthday today. It's as good as it gets, eh?

My other favorite pair of birthday twins: Sam Cooke & Lord Byron, on January 22.

I'm kind of excited to get birthdays in here, almost 6 months before mine on February 18. I like other people's birthdays almost as much as my own. I like running into someone & finding out what day it is: it's a little gift from them to me. I like that today—and every day—is someone’s birthday.  Read More