A lot of people will be getting married today so they can say their marriages were blessed under the auspices of 11-14-11.
Gamblers will be selecting 1-1-1-4-1-1 in the lottery (if you can even pick six numbers; I don’t understand gambling).
A few people might even be naming their newborns Elevenfourteeneleven.
What’s that you say? You thought last Friday was the big day, just because it worked out to 11-11-11? Maybe so, but I don’t believe that one number can be any luckier than any other number.
We are living in times when we can ask a smartphone questions and expect it to answer us. When a generation prides itself on such advanced technology, any belief in luck seems sorely misplaced.
It’s odd, though, how many of us still conduct our lives on the basis of luck, fortune, fate.
What did your horoscope say today? Is it too dangerous to get out of bed? (I once read that if the position of massive planets and stars at the time of our birth affects the rest of our lives, the weight of a portly obstetrician who delivers us would dictate our futures much more than Venus would.)
Everybody loves to read the philosophy found in fortune cookies, but if we believe our day depends on which cookie we cracked open, we need to switch to a different after-dinner snack.
How are you going to decide tonight’s lottery numbers? Come on, lucky picks.
Don’t forget bad luck. We can help avoid that by not walking under ladders, right? Well, yes, because the top of a shaky ladder might have a hammer on it that could conk our noggins.
Surely, you must agree that it’s bad luck to open an umbrella indoors. Doesn’t it have more to do with common sense, though, not to walk around people brandishing a bunch of sharp metal spikes at eye level?
The worst days of the year surely must be those when the 13th falls on a Friday, yes? If you believe that, you must be relieved that with only 12 months to choose from, we will never have a 13-13-13 on the calendar.
I think we can dismiss luck from our daily planners. One day is as lucky, or as unlucky, as the next.
There are exceptions, of course. If I forgot my wife’s birthday, that would be unlucky. The birth of a child is nothing but good fortune.
For instance, Andrew Keith Ronan was born last week on 11-7-11, just missing the much ballyhooed 11-11-11. It was still his lucky day, though, because he got to meet our daughter’s longtime friends Karen and Keith and his sister Sara. (In addition to being born on the 7th, he weighed 7 pounds, 7 ounces, not that it matters.)
I know that our lives aren’t governed by 11-7-11 or 11-11-11 or 11-14-11. I’m just glad to be here, and I’m sure Andrew is, too.