This is also the birthday of my ne'er-do-well half-brother, a pleasant fellow who, however, upon inheriting six figures hard upon the deaths of my mother and his father within an 18-month period proceeded to piss the windfall away in a round of parties and sundry consumer goods such that when he got married last year he had to apply to the two chronologically closest male sibs to underwrite brakes and tires so that he could transport self and chubby bride to Las Vegas for the nuptials.
Still, I do remember the day he was born: my mother, 42, and the Apollo 8 astronauts in lunar orbit.
cordially,