While getting Max an apple yesterday I caught myself twisting the stem and muttering my ABC's. This got me to thinking, which, as I have said before, is not always a good thing. Sometimes it is better for all involved if my mind stays blank, or at the very least, on track.
But here it was, off track and racing through my memories as I began to recall superstitions of my childhood.
Welcome, one and all, to what my mama taught me.
I am:
a) proud b) embarrassed c)ashamed
to say that I have never, knowingly, stepped on a crack. Shoot fire, y'all - it would break my mama's back.
Walk under a ladder? Well no, thank you very much, I'd rather walk around the world.
Once, because I rocked a rocking chair with no one in it, my mama made me knock on the next closest piece of wood - and that doesn't even make sense.
My sisters and I were never allowed to give a boyfriend a shirt. My mama saved many a young man's life that way. Every Christmas we heard the sad tale of the girl she once knew who gave all of her boyfriends shirts as gifts. All of those young men died - I kid you not - every one of them. Shame, isn't it?
We were never allowed to turn around and go back if we left something at home. That's bad luck. Whatever it was we did without it - and whatever you do, don't look back or you will never see home again.
It was a real shame if a black cat crossed our path because, well, we couldn't go back.
Logic would tell one not to put ones shoes on the table. Logic, no. Bad luck, yes.
Please do not open that umbrella in the house and don't you even think about passing that baby through that window.
Be careful with that mirror, you know what will happen if you break it.
Don't bother lifting your feet, I won't sweep under them anyway. You want to marry one day, don't you?
I assure you that I am not pulling your leg or yanking your chain when I tell you my mama would send my sister, who suffered from styes, to the end of the drive with these little words:
Stye, stye, leave my eye,
take the next one coming by.
Always say, "God bless you," when you sneeze. It keeps the devil away.
Never pull out a gray hair. I'm warning you, ten more will grow in its place.
Don't fret y'all, all of this can be reversed if you blow out all of your birthday candles at once or wish upon a falling star. And the best thing of all to turn your luck - the big end of the wishbone.
Don't misunderstand me, my mama is a bright, intelligent woman. What does she have to say about the number 13? Nothing. Don't you know that's just "silly superstition".
My daddy had a few of his own - the dreaded snapping turtle who would not let go till it thundered and the 'ole watermelon growing in your belly if you swallowed a seed. And everyone, don't be afraid, but he has snakes that live in his belly button. Because my daddy has never believed in shirts I always had to keep an ever watchful eye out. Just in case.
I am proud to say I have risen above all of this nonsense. Come see me sometimes, but don't come in the month of August, it's - never mind.
I'll see you when I see you. Until then, "Bless 'yo pea-pickin' heart."
"Keep on keeping on," and remember, "Country cookin' makes you good-lookin'."
P.S. I'll try not to dream about you, cause if I do three times in a row you're a goner. It's your own fault though, should've held your breath when you walked past that cemetery.
