February 29

February 28, 2004

My Dearest Lisa,

I hate leap-years. I truly despise them with all my heart. Even since I was a child, I never liked it, to skip merrily into the classroom, my spirits high, only to be crestfallen when I saw the number '29' in February. I seethe when I think of them now. Back then, it was simply a dislike, but over time, it got stronger, deeper. You know of the drill. Basically, every four years, since the time of Julius Caesar, people have been recognizing and seeing these things, these leap-years, not really thinking much of it, since it lasted only a day then things were back to their regular ways. It wasn't that important to anyone...unless you were born on a specific day in that year. Considering that people are born every couple seconds of every day, it's only fitting that people are born on February 29.

February 29 should not be a day in our calendar.

Yes, we need to make sure our earth's days are accurate, and it takes Earth 364 ¼ days to complete one revolution around the sun. Yes, if we didn't have leap years, our count would be off horribly, and things would very confusing. I have no problem with that. None at all.

But let me ask you. What happens to those poor people who are born on February 29?

As usual, they get to choose whether they want February 28, or March 1, but besides that. Do they feel a small twinge of annoyance when someone wishes them a happy birthday, knowing that it really isn't their birthday? Do they feel sad about being singled out to be born on that day? Do they joke about it, adding one year every four years, making them much younger than they should be? Who knows? Who cares?

All that matters is that February 29, which a lot of people see, talk about for a couple seconds, then forget, is a dangerous day. It's dangerous for me. It's dangerous for you. It's dangerous for everyone. It's dangerous because it can prove to be the day that just cruises by normally, or it could be the day that marks our end. Our end. When I say end, I mean the end as in, no more world as we know it. Think of the end of the world. Doomsday. That's what I mean. And that's sad, considering that I've gotten pretty much accustomed to this place, and I really like it. I presume nothing lasts forever.

But the question isn't how, who, where, or even what. When it happens, we won't be itching to find out who could cause such a horrible thing. Mostly, we'll be thinking of the best way to get a meal for our family without being killed. I'll tell you now, it happens everywhere. Who and what are one in the same in this case. How? You've got me stumped on that one.

But none of that will matter. Only one thing matters now, one question word.

Quand? Wann? Cuando? Quando?

When?

Unfortunately, for now, I must stop writing, as the officials are pouring in. Do not worry. As soon as this situation has passed, I will return to writing.

Take care,

Mark Opage