or real live kid.  I had a telephone psychic ask me What?  Were you found under a cabbage leaf or something?  after I responded to the requisite Birth Date Q & A with I don’t know my birth date.  That was many years ago but it took me a few more to make the connection with Cabbage Patch Dolls, which were a rage when my daughter was little.  I bought her one and helped her take the oath of motherhood, never once making the correlation between the idea of a cabbage patch where the dolls were grown to be picked and sold, to my own adopted status. 

Sang-Shil over at Land-of-the-Not-So Calm (I don’t know how to link yet), recently wrote about her personal quandry over not knowing her true birth date.  Since it turns out that our respective acknowledged birth dates fall within days of each other, reading her post was serendipitous.  I, too, have felt incomplete not knowing the date I was born.  Without that date, one cannot have an astrological reading prepared or a telephonic psychic reading.  Without that date, I have felt less legitimate as a child, an adolescent, a young woman, and now a woman stepping into her wisdom years. 

This weight that we non-knowers of birth dates give this not knowing may seem silly or foolish or too serious (my personal favorite) to those who know their dates of birth or to those who do not consider it a big deal.  and maybe in the big cosmic universe, these folks are right.  A million years from now, who will care that junemoon or Sang-Shil did not know their birth dates.  Will anyone know our death dates?  But for now in this year of my 51st year on Planet Earth, I care. 

Birth dates are a piece of an individual’s history that help anchor them in this life time.  I was not a cabbage patch doll.  I was not grown to be sold.  I am a human being.  I was born on a specific day in a specific year.

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