Today is Friday the 13th. Scary for some I suppose, but it's never really been something I worry about. Discussing this with an acquaintance recently, I mentioned that I was not really the superstitious type. It dawned on me, though, that I been raised by a woman who would say the same. After, that is, she had already knocked on wood a few times, fretted over the bird that hit the window and threw some salt over her shoulder. She wouldn't pass another person on a staircase, would refuse to sit down to a meal with 13 at the table and always left a home by the same door she entered it. Strangely, Mom had been doing all these things for so long she was completely unaware. This reflection gave me pause. Was I really as unaffected by superstition then as I originally thought? No black cat or ladder has taken me off my planned course. Neither have I sweated over a broken mirror. I've both accepted and returned empty dishes which used to contain food, given and rec
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