Tag Archives: Unlucky Day

The Luckiest Unluckiest Day Ever

It wasn’t until later that I realized he was born on Friday the 13th.

Unluckiest of unlucky days in Western culture, Friday the 13th is a triskaidekaphobics worst nightmare. It rarely comes about, but when it does, it’s usually wielding a machete and wearing a hockey goalie mask.

But not this month. On June 13, Casa de Dude celebrates! We kick up our heels and dance and sing (although not as much these days for reasons that should become apparent in only a few moments) and just generally enjoy life because June 13, this year falling on a Friday, is the day our family became complete.

Friday the 13th of June is Hyper Lad’s birthday. This is the year he’s turning 15, which means he’s already got his grubby little paws held out and ready to take the car keys and go for a little spin. The fact that he has no learner’s permit because his driver education teacher still hasn’t gotten around to him yet. . . Well, that means little.

He’s fifteen. He’s ready to drive. At least in his mind.

I say our family became complete because Hyper Lad is the youngest of our three young dudes. He’s six years younger than our oldest and five years younger than our middle son. In fact, we weren’t supposed to have Hyper Lad at all.

My wife, known to me as She Who Must Be Getting Her Way, and I thought we were finished procreating (although not practicing) after Zippy the Travelin’ Boy. Eventually, though, she began to yearn for another female in the house. Once she said that, it became apparent that I really needed a daughter as well since I look darn good on the dance floor wearing a tux at a wedding.

Instead, we got lucky and didn’t get our wish. Instead of a girl, we got a Hyper Lad and we couldn’t be happier.

Our oldest son, Sarcasmo, had to suffer through first-child paranoia as his mom and I freaked out about anything and everything related to our darling. Our middle son, Zippy the Travelin’ Boy, stayed sheltered in the harbor of our good graces and had vigilant parents every on guard. Relaxed, but on guard.

By the time Hyper Lad came along, we were pretty much okay with him doing just about anything short of juggling the razor-sharp blades we kept in the open, unlocked drawers in the kitchen. And even that, provided he had a good reason for it.

Having older brothers, Hyper Lad has benefited from being around (slightly) more mature age cohorts for most of his life. He’s probably more emotionally mature at 15 than his brothers were when they were his age.

Since he was smaller than everyone around whom he wanted to hang, he had to develop a quick left and an even quicker wit to survive. And he has.

His teachers see the same things that we do: one of the sharpest minds, with one of the most wicked senses of humor to have come around in a long while. He’ll frequently make an offhand joke about current affairs we happen to be discussing that’s amazingly quick, amazingly on-target and blisteringly funny.

His mom and I will just turn and look at each other — once the laughter finally dies down — and trade astonished gazes.

While Hyper Lad lives up to his name (and his blog name here), he’s not constantly rushing around and ignoring everyone else. The young dude is consistently polite (to non-dad people) in almost every situation and looks for ways to help everyone he can.

Not to say he’s perfect, of course. I mean, I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve come thiiiiiiisssssss close to popping an aneurysm in my brain from the crap he will drop — literally drop — wherever it is he happens to be done with it. If that means he’s finished with a band-aid wrapper six inches from a trashcan. . . Then he drops the wrapper to the floor six inches from the trashcan.

And, being a teenager, he’s now discovered the joys of sleeping in until the sun warms up. . . say, sometime around 3 pm.

So, yeah, he’s got a lot of things to work on. But, here’s the deal about that: We’re just so glad we get a chance to watch as he does. It’s going to be an interesting experience.

Here’s to you, Hyper Lad! Have a happy birthday and know we love you. And we dearly want to live through you learning to drive, so please work on that.


We also take a moment to remember Hyper Lad’s Great Grandmother, my Grandmother, Irene Jones. A wonderful woman, my grandmother died three years ago. She and Hyper Lad were both born on June 13 and called each other Birthday Buddies. So here’s to you as well, Mama. You’re missed and loved.

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Freaky Friday Extra: Superstition Is The Way

by Richard

No, you haven’t entered some sort of time warp and been magically or scientifically transported back in time to those halcyon days of yesterday when it was, in fact, yesterday. Or Friday, whichever you prefer. It’s just that Friday was a significant event and I wanted to talk about it. See, yesterday was Friday the 13th. Boo! Hah, you lived through it. Well, I assume you lived through it and you’re not a bunch of animated corpses sitting around, staring at a flickering computer screen looking for a sale on brains.

Be that as it may, I wanted to talk about bad, bad Leroy Brown. No, strike that. I wanted to talk about bad, bad Friday the 13th. I’m about to throw a couple of big, big words at you. First, the fear of the number 13 is called triskaidekaphobia, from the Greek something meaning something else. Basically it’s known as the fear of what I said. Here’s another big word: paraskevidekatriaphobia, which is a word that means, specifically, fear of Friday the 13th.

Can you say there’s a lot of very strange superstitions out there. I mean fear of a number? Fear of a specific day? That’s just odd.

There’s one theory that the Friday the 13th thingee comes from the conglomeration of two older superstitions; that 13 is an unlucky number and that Friday is an unlucky day. (Obviously, these folks have never heard of the weekend. I mean, how can Friday be bad when it’s the last day of the workweek?)

Superstition (click that link, dude. You won’t regret it.) is a credulous belief in something that’s not based on experience, reason or knowledge. (Oh the places I could go and the people I could irritate if I went where I wanted to go with that one. I’ll not do it.)

I’m pretty sure that all this superstition nonsense came about because bad things happened to people and they remembered that they did something out of the ordinary just before. Of course, that doesn’t include the thousands of times they did the same thing (e.g. spilling salt) and nothing happened. Correlation does not imply causation. Except to the easily bamboozled.

Still, I suppose everyone has some sort of belief in some freaky action at a distance. I mean, I have been known to wear the same thing every football Saturday to ensure my beloved Gators keep winning and, if they don’t, changing to something else to try and bring back the mojo. One thing that’s different, though, is that I know it really doesn’t change anything. I just like to do it.

I’m just glad that I don’t have any debilitating superstitions and that I never will. Knock wood.

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