I’m not a very good sport. I don’t fix the peach half eggs on pound cake toast for my kids for breakfast, or try to tell some crazy story. (OK, I admit I did try the, Ha Ha I’m pregnant story a couple years ago, but it wasn’t so much funny as it was terrifying.) I’m just dull that way. I don’t make green pancakes for St. Patricks Day, heart shaped waffles for Valentines, and I try to avoid the hard boiled eggs for Easter (I can’t stand the smell!!)
Where this fuddyduddiness comes from, I can’t quite say; but as I examine my past, I am reminded of one April Fools Day, in particular.
It was April 1, 1972 and I was a cheerful seven year old red head living in a rural suburb outside of Detroit. I remember just after having breakfast, my mom was listening to the radio in the kitchen and she called me and my 5 year old sister Jenni into the kitchen. My loving mother proceeded to solemnly break the news to us that our beloved Mr. Greenjeans, great friend of Captain Kangaroo, had been in a motorcycle accident and died. We were devastated! As mom tried to explain the “joke” Jenni and I were so confused. What was this April Fools Day anyway? Afterwards, I remember wondering for days whether the Captain would mention the accident. I was just a sheltered, naive little kid who loved her morning tv and never really got the joke.
I recovered. But I’m still not a fan of April Fools Day. I feel like a big enough fool every other day of the year for one reason or another–I certainly don’t need a special day to drive the concept home. That’s what birthdays are for!!