There is a national day or week event named after everything you can imagine including underwear, chocolate chips and s’mores.
I don’t mind sending cards on the acceptably recognized days: Valentine’s, Mother’s, Father’s. And now that I’ve starting making my own customized greeting cards I wouldn’t even mind sending out a few more to select individuals. For example, since I got married on October 12, in addition to an anniversary gift perhaps a Columbus Day card is in order for my beloved. Washington and Lincoln’s birthdays were combined into President’s Day in February, which is, in my opinion, the best time for skiing so maybe I’d send a card to my dad who owns a ski area in Minnesota. Groundhog’s Day, also recognized in February, traditionally the day we discover how much longer winter will be, could conceivably be cause for recognizing my former neighbors who were so helpful to us in ridding our lawn of the pesky rodents. It’s a bit of a stretch, but I could reasonably fathom each of those days as cause for recognition and even celebration. I could even see Hallmark expanding their product offerings.
I cannot, however, see cause for either recognizing or celebrating National Underwear Day on August 5, National Mustard Day on August 7, or Sneak Some Zucchini onto Your Neighbor’s Porch Night on August 8, which was started by some guy in Pennsylvania who constructed the holiday to gain attention for the vegetable during an unusually high surplus year. While these national days may have seemed like a good idea, it escapes me why they deserve a national day every year.
I do support, however, National Fresh Breath Day on August 6 and think it deserves to share, at the very least, National Week August 4-14 with Hobo Week, World Breastfeeding Week, and Intimate Apparel Market Week, all of which have merit. I also support Blame Someone Else Day on August 13 in honor of politicians and BP executives, International Day of the World’s Indigenous People Day on August 9 for any person in the US that doesn’t have a day to represent their particular culture, and Kool-Aid Day, which actually has the entire weekend of August 13-15 to recognize the refreshing beverage designed to foster sugar-laced hyperactivity in children already prone to tooth decay and early onset of diabetes and obesity.
But if mustard and Kool-Aid get a day in their honor, I should too. I’m not presumptuous enough to think that my contributions are deserved enough to warrant an entire week of recognition like that of Hobo Week, National Clown Week, or Psychic Week, but at the end of my life I hope to have done more for society than Purple Hearts, Presidents’ Jokes, and Sandcastles. So when I leave this life make sure to celebrate my birthday on July 18 in my absence. You can call it I Liked Liz More Than Some But Not As Much As Others Day.