I’m a little jealous of people who were born on a special date, and everyone remembers and notes. For example, a company went live on January 1st, and what a reason to party. Or a relative who started his life on Yom Kippur and doesn’t celebrate it on the day, but receives plenty of references, because you can’t forget.
For me, my birthday is unremarkable, although it has family significance – on that date in 1948, my mother immigrated to Israel, a survivor of Auschwitz. She left Hungary in the last group of the “Youth Rise”, just before the fall of the Iron Curtain. Marriage and a first birth in an independent Jewish state were a powerful expression of personal restoration and national revival.
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