Ram-alam-a-ding-dong

March 21st. It used to be the first day of spring, but the equinox has become increasingly shifty of late. (This year, in the northern hemisphere, spring starts on March 20th.)

This usurpation of my day gets my goat. Or should I say, my ram—because I’m not a Capricorn, I’m an Aries. We’re known for being competitive—just ask anyone who knows me how I hate to lose. (But please don’t ask them to reveal whether I’m a gloating winner.) Actually, I can take it. I can laugh at a good joke with the best of them. After all, among my traits—according to astrology handbooks—are energy, passion, and creativity. I’m apparently also an optimist and possess unbridled hope.

If optimism and hope are really in my wheelhouse, then I’m a good actor. Was I optimistic, in 2016, that our nation would be blessed with our first female president? Nope, I was not. I spent election day of that year opining like Cassandra from dawn to dusk that the election would go to a narcissistic former reality TV show host. At least I could say I was right! Also, as a writer, I’m prone to imagining the very worst: freeway pileups involving my family; all manner of plagues; and people more likely to shiv you than help you cross the street.

I would never leave you in the lurch, of course. Aries is loyal, and that’s the truth. In my book, the worst thing you can do is lie, cheat, or steal—and infidelity in romantic relationships warrants my utmost scorn. (If my ex-brother-in-law ever reads this, I hope his eyeballs fall out. May he also become scrofulous and pustular—see, I’m even energetic with my insults.)

As I swoon over my positive attributes, I'm told that I'm also generous to a fault and live to help people, especially those in need: apparently I love to bask in the smile I put on their faces. Do you sense a lack of humility in an Aries? I once told my wife, who was commenting that her sister wanted her sons to be humble, that I really couldn’t see the point in that. For my own children, I want Oscars, or at least the red-carpet treatment. MVP trophies would be nice too. If you’re anywhere near me on the bleachers you’ll hear me shout the very same thing, loud and proud.

Yes, those of us born under the sign of Aries are not shrinking violets. We’re the first of the Zodiac signs and the first of the fire signs, which means that if you make us lose our tempers, you’ll get a good butting from my ram's horn. My fuse is long, but when it finally explodes, run for cover. The good news: the fireworks fizzle out fairly quickly. Also, I’m not one to hold a grudge…hold that thought; I did rejoice when my nasty neighbor’s wall collapsed during our recent snowstorm.

All of us humans have angel and demon in us. As much as I like to think I am courageous and determined, I also have to admit I’m arrogant and impatient. I don’t like standing in lines for long periods (I’d never go to Disneyland without first planning how to most effectively use Fastpass) and I get a disproportionate amount of joy about going first, be it boarding an airplane or being let into a concert venue.

Other famous Aries include the Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire, Charlemagne, and the great conqueror of the Eurasian steppe, Timur. Composers Bach and Haydn are Aries, as are singers Elton John, Lady Gaga, and Mariah Carey. Eric Clapton is a strumming Aries, and Raphael and Van Gogh place Aries at the easel. Great political leaders like Thomas Jefferson and Otto von Bismarck were born under the fire sign of the ram. (I rather wish we could forget the existence of Aries’ Adolf Hitler.) Those born under Aries rub shoulders with Leonardo da Vinci and Charlie Chaplin. I wonder if all these were brave, loyal, and irascible? One thing never in doubt is that Aries, the first sign of the Zodiac, is the fire’s spark. Fellow Rams: let that spark burst into flame and let it burn!