Friday is Donald Trump’s birthday. He is 79.
There the similarities end. Trump is tall, rich and a dangerous lunatic. I am short, poor and simply a harmless eccentric.
Trump, on the flimsy grounds that his birthday coincides with the founding date 250 years ago of the United States Army, is planning a birthday military parade at which he will take centre stage despite avoiding military service during the Vietnam War. He initially received four deferments as a student and then underwent a medical which disqualified him on the grounds of "having bone spurs in both heels", widely regarded as a trumped-up diagnosis.
In fact, Trump wriggled out of war simply because he couldn’t face getting a decent haircut.
In my own case, at much the same time, I was balloted for National Service and passed the medical easily. My treasured memory is the medical officer’s comment, "This man is small but perfectly formed."
Obviously, I was not deformed by bone spurs, whatever they are. While Trump was enjoying his student life I was trapped within the military system learning how to salute and use morse code, both of which I was assured would reduce the Vietcong to gibbering surrender.
Even now, I can still throw a decent salute. Trump, on the other hand, is incapable of saluting properly but nevertheless, emboldened by his status as Commander in Chief, attempts feeble salutes whenever he sees someone wearing a peaked cap, including airline pilots and railway porters.
Our greatest divergence is probably the way we’ve decided to mark our birthdays. On Friday Trump will make a sloppy salute as 7500 soldiers form a 90-minute parade through Washington. Trump boasts: "We have the greatest missiles in the world. We have the greatest submarines in the world. We have the greatest army tanks in the world. We have the greatest weapons in the world. And we’re going to celebrate it."
In Patearoa a military parade was planned for tomorrow but Norm, who uses an old Bren gun carrier for feeding out, tells me he can’t get the damn thing started. Norm’s Bren carrier would have harmed no-one, but Trump’s tanks could cause $16 million worth of damage to the streets of Washington. The overall cost of the parade will be about $45m. Trump has asked for at least seven marching bands, parachute jumpers, an evening concert and a fireworks show.
I have asked that my birthday be ignored. Mainly for economic reasons, as the American troops are being given three meals and $50 day while taking part. Feeding and paying cash to Norm is just not the way things are done in Patearoa. All Norm requires is a jug of Speight’s at the debrief.
Some American soldiers will wear uniforms from the War of 1812 and all Norm could offer was his old man’s lemon-squeezer from World War 2, which reminded me that Patearoa’s contribution to both world wars was substantial, but it’s best marked on Anzac Day rather than on my birthday.
Trump is reported as saying: "This country has been in some beautiful wars. We even fought ourselves back in the 1860s, so one of us was bound to win. We came off the bench in World War 1 and World War 2 and won them both. There’s hardly a country we haven’t fought against. Gee, we’ve even invaded countries just for the hell of it. Watch out, Greenland and Canada, I know where you are." Worrying, eh?
That’s enough of Trump. In fact, it’s far too much of Trump and his birthday.
Back in the world of sanity I’ll mark my birthday by shouting for the blokes I usually have a drink with. I’ve been doing that on my birthday for over 20 years now. The only time it didn’t quite work out was the year I was up north on my birthday and told the publican to shout the regulars and I’d pay when I got back. There must have been about 200 regulars in that night.
These days, as a pensioner, my shouting is rare and rigidly supervised but it’s enough to mark what is simply the passing of another year. So, don’t worry about not sending a present. That you’ve read this column is more gratifying than yet another pair of socks.
For me, the birthday will be pleasing just because it’s happening. After all these years I hope I’ve learned to keep a reasonably low profile and be not too annoying to too many people.
Lessons Donald Trump would do well to learn.
— Jim Sullivan is a Patearoa writer.
