Barry Rosenberg

I havE no problem with having a national holiday to celebrate a foreign king’s birthday-that’s-not-his-birthday. But boy, this country sure makes a big deal of the occasion.

Sixty years back the wife and I were visiting Copenhagen, the capital of Denmark.

An older gentleman at our hotel kindly offered to act as a free guide and show us around his beautiful city, of which he was obviously proud.

Following several minutes on the street pointing out various landmarks, we happened to pass another elderly gentleman, spiffily dressed with a walking stick, strolling on his own. Our guide said, “Good morning, king.”

The other chap smiled and doffed his fedora. ‘A very good morning,’ he offered in return.

“Interesting name,” my wife remarked, when he had walked on.

“Oh, that’s not his name,” chuckled our self-appointed guide.

“His name is Frederik. He’s our king.”