' This morning, in my journal, I wrote September 2, 1998.
And a tsunami of unhappiness swept over me, as I reached for the whiteout to fix the error--
Because it finally crept into my awareness--I will never in my whole life be able to write nineteen anything when it comes to the date. No 1978, no 1949, no 1980. No 1999 for that matter.
It will forever more, in my lifetime, only be 20 something. Like today it is 2009--
Which makes for a namby pamby bunch of numbers if you ask me.
Twos and zeros are soft round. They eat donuts for a living. They are what is described as plump.
Therefore plump, round numbers will now identify every day of the rest of my life.
Nineteen is sexy. The number itself is commanding to look at--'one' is sleek and tall. 'Nine' can round, true, but it can also be ramrod straight.
So, aesthetically speaking, I like the look of 19 more than 20.
I like the sound of nineteen--that clean sound of the tongue against the roof of the mouth, on the back of the front teeth. Whereas twenty has the soft 'w' to contend with. Elmer Fuddish, okay?
I thought a new century was fabulous. I still think a new century is fabulous.
I just hadn't comprehended that the new century now meant 'nineteen' was out the window. And dumpy 'twenty' was here to stay.
Thanks for letting me share.