Birthday humor about the chief named Shortcake

We celebrated our daughter Meredith's 35th birthday this weekend.

"It's easy to remember my birthday year because I was born in 1980," she said. "2015, 35."

"Me too," I said.  "I was born in 1950.  2015, 65."

"Yup," she said.  "I'm always 30 years behind you."

With a May 30 birthday, it wouldn't be right to celebrate without strawberry shortcake.  So we always do.  Strawberries are always peaking and so is the whipped cream.

And while the cream is being whipped, part of the tradition is to remember old Blackfoot Chief Shortcake, a distant relative on my mother's side from the Flathead Lake region of Montana.

After a noble and harmonious life, Chief Shortcake one day walked off toward a tall and distant mesa, hiked slowly to the top and sat on a smooth flat rock.There Shortcake offered his soul to the great overlord who took it with great dignity, happy to add such an esteemed chief to his own tribe. Shortcake's warrior friends brought his remains back to the village and laid them in front of the door of his teepee.  His squaw accepted them with the dignity and honor that accompanied them.

The most senior of the warriors huddled quietly with Shortcake's squaw and offered his help, and that of the others, with final arrangements.

She listened and smiled gently with great gratitude and replied simply:

"Thank you, but no need.  Squaw bury Shortcake."

So, there you have it.  I have to keep my blogging streak alive.

Thanks for joining me.  Enjoy the rest of the weekend.