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GIFTS, BIRTHDAY AND OTHERWISE
Reflections About Three-Year-Old Birthday Wishes
It’s not me who’s three years old, it’s the birthday wishes.
By the power vested in algorithms I was recently gifted a small fortune.
Weirdly, it was recompense for zero reads in zero seconds by zero readers but hey, 67 cents is 67 cents.
Weirdly too, it happened just the other day, several days after my most recent birthday.
Weirdly three, it was for this:
The small fortune cascading my way caused me to reread my ancient “treasure” of a story.
Aside
When I was a boy, my father referred to our dog’s poo as “treasures”, as in “go into the backyard and pick up Frisky’s treasures.” An expression, and an activity, that never failed to delight.
Because I’m some kind of scofflaw with a success death wish I don’t generally pepper my stories with What’s In It For Me (WIIFM)-type messages. I feel, naively perhaps, that it’s my responsibility to…
