|29 August 2021|
At length in these blogs I have written that while I was born at the Sanatorio Anchorena in Buenos Aires on August 31st of 1942, I never received a satisfactory explanation from my mother why my birth certificate and all other documents record my birth on April 18, 1943.
Could it have been something about being born when my mother and my father were not yet married? My mother told me that my father forgot to register me. I do not think that is credible as registration must be automatic at a hospital when one is born.
The conflict with my real birthday is that I started elementary school late and my entry into the obligatory conscription (in my case) in the Argentine Navy was a year later.
There may have been an advantage, had I become an actor, as it is always a good thing to be younger. There was one plus that served me well for 52 years. Since my Rosemary’s birthday was on April 19th, my fake birthday always reminded me not to forget while I often forgot our wedding anniversary. My attempts at celebrating two birthdays did not always bring me fans within my family.
For some years I have taken a self-portrait on my birthday.
My last one can be seen here .
This year, today Sunday, August 29, 2021 I decided to shoot my self-portrait. It is a tad complicated as I have to use a big heavy mirror in my little studio. I use a fabulous but long discontinued Fuji Instant 3000 film. One difficulty is to avoid the reflection of the softbox on the huge framed photograph of Pam behind me.
|23 August 2020|
Because I took several courses in statistics at the University of the Americas in Mexico City and with the death of Rosemary last December, mortality now accompanies me at all times even when I attempt to distract myself. I wonder how many of these self-portraits I have left in me.
And on a positive note, last year on my birthday, this happened. This last Wednesday there was a marvelous repetition of it which I will write about shortly.