My sisters tell me that the day I was born was special, not because of my arrival, but because Grammy fried hot dogs for them. I don’t know how accurate that is because I can’t remember a thing about that day. The only record that is official is what the town clerk put into the ledger.
The department of education went by the official document because they knew I was five and had to go to school.
On that exact date, I graduated from Allagash Consolidated High School.
On that date, because I was now eighteen, Catrina Anderson wanted my signature on the eligibility form for the draft. When they pulled the numbers, I was number 285, so I didn’t have to go. My friend was number 8. He went.
On the day I turned twenty-one, the drinking age was lowered to eighteen and it was also on my birthday. They figured if you could die at eighteen in Vietnam, you should be able to drink in the USA. For my sake, it was good that they had held off till I was twenty-one.
Other than that, June eleven of every year is just another day. It means little to me and even less to everyone else.
Strange how you look back at time and events and realize the influence they had on your life. One day, God told me all about it in a verse.
Psalm 23:6
Surely your goodness and unfailing love will pursue me
all the days of my life,
and I will live in the house of the Lord
forever.
Can you visualize goodness and unfailing love in the shadow of every picture of your existence?
Give it some thought.
Gary