I have never met a president. The only person in my family ever to have done so, as far as I know, was my great-grandfather, who shook Teddy Roosevelt’s hand one time.

I have read a lot about presidents—not as much as my husband, but I know some stuff. If I were a better person, I would have used Presidents Day over the years to Brush Up My Fillmore, but I am who I am, so that didn’t happen.

Instead, I had a lot of great days off because of presidents. When I was in grade school, we got days off for Washington AND Lincon, which was pretty awesome in the most hideous and my least favorite month of February when walking to school was especially cold and wet and gross. Nothing ever really happened on those days off, it just meant I got a day to stay home and read all morning, even though the price was always a long afternoon of manual labor for my tireless mother.

Then we moved to Florida and I got a bit more independence. When my friends and I gained mobility, Presidents Day meant an afternoon at the movie theater stuffing our faces with all the junk we could afford.

When my kid was in school, Presidents Day usually meant I was off with him or dragging him into the office with me. We had some more great days in those years—usually trips to DC to visit our friends in the various Smithsonians—dinosaurs, the Hope Diamond, and the Saturn V exhibit. I think maybe 2 of those 3 things are still on display.

And now? Now, it means virtually nothing since it is not a paid holiday for me (or a lot of other people, which could be a symptom or a lagging indicator of our nation’s lack of regard for itself). Plus, I almost always have Mondays off anyway on my part-time schedule, so I don’t remember it’s happening until I go to the post office or some other government entity. Of course, even when I remember, I don’t do much to actually honor the day. (Does anyone? I don’t do much on most federal holidays, honestly. I don’t go to cemeteries on Memorial Day; I don’t celebrate unions on Labor Day—though I do give props to Peter McGuire, the guy who chose the day because it was midway between July Fourth and Thanksgiving. That is some good thinking right there.) Anyway, no, I don’t honor presidents, either. It’s too cold to golf like Eisenhower or garden like Jefferson, I am not into boxing like Teddy Roosevelt, and cockfighting like Jackson is right out. The hubs would be up for honoring Nixon by bowling, but I suck at that and have no desire to improve. The path of least resistance is probably to hop in our lovely heated pool and honor FDR by swimming. So I guess that’s where you’ll find me tonight.