Year of the Which?

This Monday is the start of the Lunar New Year celebration for 2022. As kids we were fascinated by the "Chinese Zodiac" printed on so many placemats in so many Chinese restaurants. In between nibbles of fried noodles we would lift our little cups of tea and read the tiny descriptions for each of the 12 animals that represented the cycle. 

I was a tiger, "aggressive, courageous, candid and sensitive. Look to the Horse and Dog for happiness. Beware of the Monkey." 

My brother was a dragon, "eccentric and your life complex. You have a very passionate nature and abundant health. Marry a Monkey or Rat late in life. Avoid the Dog."

My sister was a horse, "Popular and attractive to the opposite sex. You are often ostentatious and impatient. You need people. Marry a Tiger or a Dog early, but never a Rat."

My mom was a rabbit, "Luckiest of all signs, you are also talented and articulate. Affectionate, but shy, you seek peace throughout your life. Marry a Sheep or Boar. Your opposite is the Cock."

And my dad was a boar, "Noble and chivalrous. Your friends will be lifelong, yet you are prone to marital strife. Avoid other Boars. Marry a Rabbit or a Sheep." 

Even though we grew bored of reading the same information over and over, we liked it that the placemats confirmed our parents' compatibility; it seemed to verify their accuracy. 

Years later, after my parents split up, my brother and sister and I were on a road trip with my dad from Virginia Beach to Raleigh, NC. We had gotten an early start, and stopped for breakfast in a tiny diner somewhere on Rte 58. It was January of 1987, and my dad's birthday had recently passed. We got to talking about the next year being a leap year and how all of our birthdays would be 2 days later in the week instead of just one. 

"Not mine," my dad said with  his trademark, know-it-all, smirk.

"What do you mean?" I asked, and then I gasped, because I got it. His birthday was before February 28, and so it wouldn't skip a day until the year after leap year. My mind? Blown.

We started to tease my dad about it. "That's got to be unlucky!" one of us said, and the silly mantra "Unlucky, born before leap day," intoned like a mock chant, entered into our idiosyncratic family lore. 

My dad didn't live to see another birthday; he died that March. And it was many years after that, when I was considering the Chinese Zodiac, probably staring at a red, white, and black placemat waiting for my meal, that I realized that he wasn't a boar at all. My dad was born before leap day and the Lunar New Year. He was actually a dog, "Loyal and honest you work well with others. Generous yet stubborn and often selfish. Look to the Horse or Tiger. Watch out for Dragons."

Maybe.