You’ve certainly heard of this. You might even have a few of your own. Conflicting dates.
According to the family Bible, a child was born in 1921. Some or all government records say 1920. What the writer of the birth dates didn’t realize is that someday there would be such a thing as computers and digitized records and we’d be able to see right through the hanky-panky in the cotton fields. We’re not blind.
And then there’s my grandmother, Pearl, who took this crazy notion to a whole ‘nother level. Pearl decided, after the fact, that she wanted to be born in 1900. It’s a nice round number. It has that turn-of-the-century pizazz.
I don’t why she decided this or at what age she decided but forever after, everywhere she went, every form she filled out, every time she had to answer the question again until she died at the age of 94 … she was born on December 24, 1900.
According to my mother, at her 75th wing-ding birthday party, Pearl said, “Shhh, don’t tell the other girls, but I wasn’t really born in 1900.” She actually thought she could take this to the grave with her.
In my personal possession is a digital copy of a June 30th, 1900 census record that says Pearl was born December 1899. Immortalized in black & white. Not that you can always, or almost ever, trust a census record.