Is it your birthday?

I AM TERRIBLE at remembering birthdays. Today, my brother Steve turns .... 40 something. I think.

The siblings, nieces and nephews are scattered all around the country. So I get reminded via email and Facebook about birthdays. Then I chime in like I knew it all along. Right.

My father likes to say, "I have a good memory. It's just short." Those leaves have a short trip to the ground from the tree.

Hey, I know you! But I don't remember when you were born, sorry.

About 15 years ago, my late mother was visiting and we were at the old Pizza Hut on North 24th Street. I can remember the long-closed restaurant, but that's beside point. I probably mentioned something about not knowing it was somebody's birthday.

So my mother, who signaled left but turned right, could get lost on a one-way road and once put milk on her eggs and salt on her cereal, whipped out a pen and small piece of paper. She then wrote down the birthdays of all her kids and grandkids.

I still have that note. I keep it in a desk drawer and find it every so often. Never when it's my brother's birthday or anything, but still. It's a precious memory and that's the point.

So. Happy birthday, little brother! I hope it's a good one, no matter how old you are.

Your card is in the mail. I think.