Today I happened to meet a sparkly lady who announced that she had turned seventy in November. What day, I asked as I, too, turned seventy in November. The tenth, she said. In amazement I cried, “That is my birthday, too!”
This is the very first person I have met who was born on the same day as I was.
She was born here in the LA area, but it was too much to hope for us to have been born on the same day in the same hospital.
Actually, I have only met one other person who shares my birthday; a lovely blonde lady born ten years to the day after I was.
I guess it is not such a big deal to others, but if this whole mudball goes blooey at midnight tonight, well, today was for me an exceptional day.
My sister-in-law’s son was born on her birthday. Her husband jokes about what he’s going to give her for her next birthday to top the previous year’s present.
When I was in seventh grade, I met the boy who was born on the same day as me in the same hospital, and I also met the boy who was born in that hospital on the day before. My mother had cut the birth announcement out of the paper and all three of us are mentioned.
I’m Facebook friends with the boy who was born the day before, but we only all went to school together in seventh and eighth grade.
When my oldest child was about 18 months old, I met a woman in the children’s section of a local bookstore. She had a son the same age as my daughter. As we chatted, we discovered that:
They had the same birthday.
They were born in the same hospital*.
They were delivered by the same doctor–about half an hour apart.
Turns out SHE was the lady in labor my doctor kept leaving me to check on (her son was born first)! I thought that was a pretty cool cooincidence!
*NOT our own area hospital. This one was an hour’s drive away, in a city where there are not one, but THREE different hospitals.
My two half-brothers (one from my mom’s first marriage, and the other from my dad’s first marriage) were born on the same day. That was a funny surprise for my parents when they found out!
My grandfather and I were born on the same day according to the Gregorian calendar. We were also both born on Yom Kippur even though Yom Kippur was a day later the year he was born due to the fact that days begin at sundown on the Hebrew calendar.
One of my colleagues was born the same day as my wife. But here is a factoid that one of my HS teachers told me. They once had a pair of students, possibly cousins although I don’t recall, who had the same first, middle, and last names and were born on the same day. I think they were first cousins and named after the same deceased relatives, in the Ashkenazy tradition. But it drove the teachers mad and they finally separated them by the name of the streets they lived on. I’ll bet there were still lots of mistakes made. My records once got mixed up with those of someone with the same last name, but completely different other names.
I was born on the same day and year as Donny Hathaway and Rod Carew. And it was Julie Andrews’ 10th birthday and Jimmy Carter’s 21st.
And I missed being born on my brother’s birthday by an hour and 20 minutes. He was born 9 months after New Year’s Eve and I was born 3 years later, 9 months after New Year’s morning. (Yes, they must have had some wild parties back then.)
I was involved in a car accident with a jackass* with the same birthday and same first letter of last name. (At the time, the driver’s licence number was your initials followed by the birthday, ie “BR041765”)
It really made it hard on the cops doing the paperwork.
*I went to school with this turd. Totally his fault!
My father had trouble voting one year, because it turned out another man had voted who had the same first name, middle initial, last name, and date of birth.
And panache45 was born the same day (though not year) as my sister.