She’s taking slow, deep breaths that are calm and peaceful. She wipes a few drops of sweat from her face with her left hand.“No cake this year?” I ask.“I was going to purchase one this morning, but… I forgot,” she replies as if she suddenly remembered it.“Hey, it’s your birthday; enjoy the day however you want,” I laugh, returning to my seat at the dining table.“What are your plans for the day, by the way? I figured that since I couldn’t make it to the weekend party, I could at least hang out with you today.”Mom’s head shoots up, and she searches my face with her narrowed eyes. She’s been distracted so far anyway. But she suddenly detects the smell of something strange. She hasn’t forgotten about the day.“Why? What plans do you have? “She asks.April Fools’ Day is a sort of family tradition. My mom was born in April, and I was born in August. Although my birthdays have become prank days, our birthdays are still called April Fool’s Day every year.If the pranked person doesn’t wind up. And Beatles lived in gardens then, and Monkees lived in trees,Madonna was Mary in the Land That Made Me, Me.We’d never heard of microwaves, or telephones in cars,And babies might be bottle-fed, but they were not grown in jars.And pumping iron got wrinkles out, and ‘gay’ meant fancy-free,And dorms were never co-Ed in the Land That Made Me, Me.We hadn’t seen enough of jets to talk about the lag,And microchips were what was left at the bottom of the bag.And hardware was a box of nails, and bytes came from a flea,And rocket ships were fiction in the Land That Made Me, Me.T-Birds came with portholes, and side shows came with freaks,And bathing suits came big enough to cover both your cheeks.And Coke came just in bottles, and skirts below the knee,And Castro came to power near the Land That Made Me, Me.We had no Crest with Fluoride, we had no Hill Street Blues,We had no patterned pantyhose or Lipton herbal teaOr prime-time ads for those dysfunctions in the Land That Made Me, Me.There were.
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