My mother used to say that she always knew when her anniversary was coming around because of the television shows on Hiroshima started to appear. You see, she was married on August 6, 1954, the date, not the year they dropped the bomb on Hiroshima.
I always felt that this was probably the most unromantic way to remember a date. Not like being wed on the first day of spring so that ever after, when you see flowers starting to rise through the dirt you know your anniversary is coming.
It's funny, our family dates seem to hover around disasters and also celebratory dates.
My great-grandmother was born on November 11, 1868, the date, not the year of the Armistice. My mother was born on December 8, 1929, the date, not the year, of the killing of John Lennon.
This means that, I, too, think of these anniversaries whenever remembrances start to appear on WWI or John Lennon's murder.
I was born on Groundhog's Day.
Then there are the near misses. My brother was born near Thanksgiving (Canadian). My father died on September 10, 2010. Not quite, but still, whenever 9/11 shows appear on television, I know another anniversary of my father's death has come around.
My great-grandmother died on Christmas Eve.
I don't know how many families have the same 'date game' going on in their families but I've always found it interesting in mine that so many anniversaries are already marked on the calendar.