Anyway, it was always a bitter-sweet occasion anyway since my grandmother unwisely, IMHO, got married on her birthday in 1915.

The marriage lasted about 20 years. The last 10 or so very messy.

So, it was always a sad day for her, too.


And I never knew exactly how to take that. Because if their marriage never crumbled, my mom doesn't get created, ergo my brother and sister don't ever exist.

We know full well the world would be better without me. I don't need Sam Kinison to re-enact "It's a Wonderful Life" to know that I'm as needed as Al Bundy was.

But, it is odd, to me at least, to know that in some way we all are partially the product of a sum of personal devastation of our forebearers.

Guess we don't need Xenu and "Incident II" to have a haunting trail of memories over the eons. Each of us is a product of tragedies [and good fortunes] in our own genetic pasts.