from left are leap-day babies Dawn Burnley, Jeff Chiplis, Emily
Lipovan Holan and Morgan Lund-Goldstein
fotos by Joshua Gunter, The Plain Dealer
Happy birthday at
last, all you leap-day babies
February 29, 2004
Bill Lubinger
Cleveland Plain Dealer Reporter
Their kind was born today, leap day. For the rest
of us, February 29 is just an extra 24 hours to
fritter away.
They call themselves "leapers" and
"29ers" and use other nicknames to bond
those with phantom
birthdays.
Because of a centuries-old solution to a calendar
flaw, their birth date doesn't even appear three
out
of every four years. So their births are
celebrated the day before or the day after or
wedged in around
other commitments.
One year, recalled leap-year baby Emily Lipovan
Holan, who is 32 today (8 in leap years), her
parents didn't get around to celebrating her
birthday until March 20.
"I think it formed my accommodating
personality," she said accommodatingly.
Leap year is a numbers game. The chance of being
born on leap day is about 1 in 1,461. There are
an estimated 4 million leapers around the world,
but most of them go through life meeting maybe
one or two others.
"When you find another leap-year baby, it's
like a tribe" member, said Lipovan Holan, a
Clevelander who knows two others.
More like a subculture. There are leap-year books,
a leap-year festival and, available on
www.leapyearday.com, a Leap Erickson doll, frog
jewelry and "Leap Happens" stickers,
magnets
nd T-shirts.
Some beat incredible odds to actually have fellow
leapers living in the same house.
Kim Martin of West Chester in southwest Ohio was
born on leap day 1960; her son, Chris, on
leap day 1988. He wasn't induced, just tired of
waiting.
"I will be 11, and my son will be 4,"
she said, days before leaving for a special double
birthday trip to
Walt Disney World.
Dawn Burnley of Wadsworth, who has "LP
YEAR" license plates, met another leaper just
five
minutes after she was born. She and her identical
twin, Denise Wein, who lives in Georgia, are
36 (9 in leap years) today.
Because Feb. 29 lands so infrequently, some
leapers cram four years of celebrating into one.
In nonleap years, Tremont neon artist and
leap-year kid Jeff Chiplis barely acknowledges his
birthday.
At midnight, as Feb. 28 slides into March 1, he
simply raises his hands, snaps his fingers and
says,
"That's it."
But when Feb. 29 rolls around every four years,
it's a major blowout. Siblings and friends fly in
from
as far away as Hawaii, Oregon and Massachusetts to
celebrate with him.
This year's party has a Hawaiian luau theme, with
flowery shirts, catered Hawaiian pork butt and
Don Ho on the jukebox in Chiplis' art studio. The
party began when the first guests arrived Thursday
and won't end until the last one leaves on Monday.
The older he gets - Chiplis is 52 (or 13) - the
more leap year means.
"It's that eternal youth thing," said
Chiplis, his smile sandwiched between a white soul
patch and
sparkling gray-blue eyes. "I'm gonna be a
teenager. Puberty's kicking in, and this time I'm
ready for it."
Leap year is for prepubescents, too.
Today, at the Happy Days School in Ravenna
Township, Sarah Lund-Goldstein and her Portage
County Moms group are throwing a birthday bash for
her 8-year-old son, Morgan, and any other
leap-year day kids who decide to show up.
The party theme is "229," with 229
cupcakes, 229 Dixie Cups filled with green
Kool-Aid and,
at 2:29 p.m., 229 balloons released to the sky.
What's the big deal, you wonder?
It's one small step for Morgan. One giant leap for
his kind.
To reach this Plain Dealer reporter: blubinger@plaind.com,
216-999-5531 |
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