Today is my birthday, the annul anniversary of my first appearance on this earth. No outlandish celebrations, rockets shooting skywards, rather a most modest recognition of an event that transpired seventy two years ago, in what often seems like a different time epoch entirely, with differing rules, ambitions and possibilities. No doubt that particular feeling is shared with anyone with a keen sense of history and who commiserates with hopes and disappointments of a race constantly straining for the semblance of place in an environment that consistently proves surprisingly inhospitable to continuing wholesome development.
Our species is and ever has been a very awkward fit upon this revolving compressed sphere of dirt, a home particularly unsuited for easy existence. Constantly having to fight conditions and elements that seem obliged to surround and bombard us momentarily with dastardly challenges. Any belief in divine placement has to be tempered with a profound acknowledgement of any creator’s extraordinary sense of irony, or perhaps just a wicked streak of humor.