Way Not to Wish Me a Happy Birthday, Jerks

With the exception of Barefoot Josh, you guys are all failures. You should have known that yesterday was Flag Day, my birthday. Yet, not a single one of you (again, except Josh) wished me a happy birthday. I'm hurt, offended and pissed off.

Clearly, my happiness is dependent on the number of reader comments I get, and you guys showed yourselves to be big ol' jerks. And Josh, he actually said "Bappy Hirthday," so I'm not sure I should totally let him off the hook.

Yesterday, I took the holiday, slept in, went for a shorter-than-anticipated run around the neighborhood and then drove out to Mount Vernon, Ohio, with the Enthusiast.

My run was a barefoot four-miler around the neighborhood. I decided to see what happened when I pushed it, and the results weren't spectacular. Not only was I slow, but my feet were very tender afterward from pushing off too much. Every time I think I'm getting to a point where I think I could run a 5-K race barefoot, I learn how difficult that would be in actuality.

Mount Vernon was enjoyable. We were antiquing for wedding things and looking for grave sites. The small city was the home of Dan Emmett, minstrel musician and acknowledged as the author of the song "Dixie," who died in 1904. However, some people believe Emmett learned the tune from a local black family, the Snowdens.

While the Enthusiast and I were able to find Emmett's grave in Mound View Cemetery, we couldn't find the burial site of Ben and Lew Snowden, whose grave marker declares "They taught 'Dixie' to Dan Emmett." The story of how the Snowdens may have influenced Emmett is told in Way Up North in Dixie, by Howard and Judith Sacks, an enthralling read for those interested in early American music.