August 24, 2019 – Tuesday’s child full of grace
Earlier this month I was signing up for insurance and in the process of watching the gentlemen who was
assisting me key my personal information in, I leaned in to view the monitor to verify what he was typing.
He asked
me what my birth date was. It was a normal question as most insurance policies ask
that information, and I tossed it out easily like a handful of small change into
a fountain.
“Do
you happen to know what day of the
week you were born?” He asked with
raised eyebrows. Now that wasn’t a normal question, but I tossed my answer back at him quickly.
“Tuesday.
Tuesday’s child full of grace,” pausing a moment to add, “at 10:56 p.m. or was
it 10:54, maybe 10:52 p.m. – I think. I
am fuzzy on the minutes, but I know I’m close.”
He
said, “Watch,” as he pointed his cursor arrow on a calendar icon and clicked it
and the month of my birth calendar popped onto the screen confirming I truly am
a Tuesday child.
He
smiled and as I was piqued by this exchange, I softly whispered to him across
the desk, “How many people know the answer to that?”
“Most,”
he shrugged.
Later
in the day, I couldn’t help but mull that moment over as I was driving over to Polk
County to enroll in an upcoming writing class.
It was a beautiful day for a drive and I went the direct route out HWY
74 to Columbus and came back the scenic Route 108 on the way back. I rolled that memory of my childhood and even adulthood when I’d ask that time-worn question of
my mother,
“Tell
me about the day I was born.”
Mom
always answered starting with,
“Tuesday’s
child full of grace,” and how my Aunt Yvonne and Uncle John were visiting that afternoon. Mom got up and without any fanfare
took a shower and dressed. Dad was called home from work and drove her to the hospital in the next town
where I was born leaving Aunt Yvonne and Uncle John to babysit my two older brothers. [It is easily understood that Yvonne is my
middle name and I love the reason for that middle name as well as how unusual
it is. See NOTE:]
I
also thought of the people who had never had a chance to ask that question of
their parents. What a lost piece of
personal history that must be to not know one’s grand entrance into this world.
Later
in the day I asked that strange question of my brother. “
“Heck
I don’t know, why?”
I
told him the about the interesting moment.
“I
got it right, you don’t know? Well I will look it up for you. I am sure the computer has a perpetual
calendar. I bet your baby book has it.”
“I
have no clue where that would be,” he answered.
“Mom
sent me mine about 10 or 15 years ago, I run up on it each time I clean drawers
or cabinets. But, I too can’t put my hands on it right away. I bet she put the time down – I am certain of
it.”
“Is
that on your birth certificate, I wonder,” he replied.
“Don’t
know.”
I
told him I’d find out and get back to him, so I am.
The
traditional poem used to teach young children the days of the week in a
sing-song way is below:
Monday’s
child is fair of face
Tuesday’s
child is full of grace
Wednesday’s
child is full of woe
Thursday’s
child has far to go
Friday’s
child is loving and giving
Saturday’s
child works hard for his living
And
the child that is born on the Sabbath Day
Is
bonny and blithe, and good and gay.
1838
(first printed source) version above
Published
in St. Nicholas Magazine, 1873
Brother
Ken, you were born on Sunday: Bonny and blithe, and good and gay.
If you don’t know your birthday of the week, below
are useful tools to find out.
NOTE: I
phoned my Aunt Yvonne, one of the last of the four people alive that knows the
intimate story of my birth date, and she confirmed all that I wrote above. Your own personal history is so moving when
you reminisce, but it is good to verify the facts.
See Wikipedia for poem info: https://www.infoplease.com/calendar/195101
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