Very Superstitious

Friday the 13th! For many, Friday the Thirteenth has been considered to be the luckiest of days, for better or worse. Wikipedia, that bastion of reputable information, has some tidbits of data you may or may not find interesting on the subject

In any case, I find the whole notion of superstitions fascinating. I love the weirdness and quirkiness of people, and it's in our superstitions that this weirdness is often most interestingly displayed. Doesn't matter how educated and logical we may be- how many of us have "knocked on wood" at some point to counter the effects of some bad juju? I do it all the time, just in case. Lucky socks, underwear, hats, shirts, dresses, sweaters, etc. line the closets and drawers of sports fans and athletes around the world. And let's not forget the awesome weirdness of treasured objects held throughout the years by rich and poor alike, including four-leafed clovers, found pennies (heads up only), horseshoes, or a rabbit's foot. Obviously not too lucky for the rabbit.


Specific pre-performance traditions abound in the worlds of art & entertainment, sports, and organized religion, to name a few. I would submit that 'superstition and 'tradition' are just two sides of the same freaky coin, and pity the fool who doesn't hold on to it.

By placing the outcome of any given situation in the hands of Fate, a carefully choreographed pregame routine, or some inanimate object; by giving even the slightest credit to petulant forces beyond our control, somehow makes our lives a bit more interesting and dramatic while diverting at least some responsibility away from us (or our favorite team, love interest, whatever) if things don't end up happening the way we might prefer. It's really only a problem when we get so enmeshed in our superstitions/traditions/routines that we become unable to function without them, when we morph from being lovably quirky to paralyzingly phobic. Example: Holding my cowbell with my right hand only during hockey games, lanyard carefully wrapped around my hand? Lovably Quirky. Driving all the way back home to fetch said cowbell and missing the first period as a result? Time for an intervention. (For the record, this never happened, and we will not speak of it again.)

My Mom, God rest her soul, was very superstitious. She found a way to weave good luck/bad luck throughout our everyday lives. The way her face would light up with delight whenever she saw a penny lying on the ground, bending down to pick it up and giggling like a little girl as she would place it face up in my palm, or how she would always save the wishbone for us when she cooked a chicken, or the way she would call out "Hey! Let's make a wish!" everytime she would see a truck carrying bales of hay down the road... it was truly magical. Sometimes I would just shake my head, frowning at her silly superstitions, trying so much to gain my super-logical father's approval; how I wish I could go back and cherish her silliness instead. Seems only fitting that when she died, it was on Friday the 13th. So, my biggest superstition is to remember her every Friday the 13th, not just on the anniversary of her passing. Pretty sure that today my Mom is giggling in heaven, counting rainbows and breaking wishbones with Jesus and trying to score a four-leafed clover for good luck.