Barbara J. Hamby

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April is the Coolest Month

Queen Elizabeth and I have now survived another birthday. She was three when I was born. At least she doesn’t suffer the ignominy of sharing hers with Adolph Hitler.  I’ve never followed royalty, or been very interested in their activities, but I do remember reading about Princess Elizabeth and Princess Margaret when I was young.

Shirley Temple Black will celebrate her 78th birthday on the 23rd of April this year. When I was a little girl, I thought she was born just three days after I was. Later I was told that her actual age had not been made public. I suppose that was to allow her to perform longer as a child star.

When I first began writing autobiographical stories (aka memoirs), I called myself April. I think it’s a really pretty name. Barbara isn’t a bad name if you don’t know its definition: i.e. strange, foreign.

In this country most newborns are being given unusual or strange names these days, it seems. I haven’t heard about any infants named Elizabeth, Margaret, Barbara or Shirley, recently. My writing class had a conversation on that subject a few days ago (in connection with naming fictional characters). Someone speculated that kids with these weird new names would be teased, but that seems unlikely to me, when many of them have names unfamiliar to their grandparents.

This little essay seems to ramble a lot. Please blame its disjointed construction on the cold pills I’m taking to alleviate my hacking and sniffing.