Leaping in

"Everybody's smiling," noted the man in the elevator. "Must be Friday."

"Friday afternoon… and my elementary school gym teacher's birthday."

Mr. Eckerd must be turning something close to 15 or 60, depending on how one counted. Of course, I could be completely wrong. When I was seven, he seemed a million years old in his gray, poly gym shorts, his short-sleeved shirt and a whistle. I think he might have been in his mid-30s. I seem to recall his "ninth" birthday on a leap day years ago, but I could be wrong.

For the most part, he escapes my memory even if my mom's favorite story of Kristin, age 8, included the man.

"Just say 'no,'" she taught me. "If somebody wants you to do something you don't want to do, say 'no.'"

The next week, when I forgot to wear sneakers on a Tuesday despite the fact that Tuesdays were always gym days, I said "no." I refused to participate. I sat down in the gym in my patent leather Mary Janes and crossed my arms over my chest. I staged my own sit-in.*

Apparently, Mr. Eckerd was not amused. My mom found it hilarious. As for me, I don't remember it. I do remember the man, though, every four years.

"I have one friend who always celebrates on March 1," the woman in the elevator, one of the smilers, said. "Another who celebrates on February 28. She says her birthday's in February, not March."

"And nobody wants to wait for her birthday."

"Especially not four years!"

Nevertheless, it was a memorable, if somewhat troublesome date.

I wondered if I just donated an extra day of work to the company. A lifetime ago, I would have gotten paid for every hour worked – not so much as a salaried employee, but we would probably bill the client for my hours. The whole issue made my head spin, though not nearly as much as the week leading up to the leap. Maybe it would go into the bonus pool at the end of the year. The extra money. Not my head.

The morning news show [read: fluff for the barely awake] stuck in my head as it spun. Apparently, it's also is also St Oswald’s Day, which makes me wish that my gym teacher wore the name of the saint instead of his profession. Jim. Oswald Eckerd sounded much more memorable. And as a day of Ayyám-i-Há (in the Bahá'í calendar) I might dedicate myself to fasting preparations, charity, hospitality and gift-giving.

Bring on the leap gifts.

My favorite little nugget, though, was the tradition for untraditional relationships. Since leap day existed to fix a problem in the calendar, it could also be used to fix an old and unjust custom that only let men propose marriage. I could ask a man to marry me. I should ask a man to marry me. I would have to find a man to marry, but older traditions gave me the whole year.

Better yet, a man was expected to pay a penalty, such as a gown, money or 12 pairs of gloves, if he refused a marriage offer from a woman. Cold hands, warm heart. Warm hands, no husband?

Bring on the gloves.

I've got all night to test the tradition at a friend's un-birthday party.


*In my defense, I did have asthma, triggered by running, which nobody bothered to address until I was well into my 20s, but I probably would have done it anyway.


Tag: Calendar