I’m not generally a superstitious person. I don’t throw salt over my left shoulder; I don’t have a rabbit foot on my keychain; and if I break a mirror, I’m much more concerned about avoiding getting cut by shards of glass than I am about incurring seven years of bad luck.
That being said, though, I do think about superstitions fairly often. If I’m walking outside, I tend to avoid the cracks in the sidewalk panels so I don’t “break my mother’s back.”[1] When I open my umbrella indoors to let it dry out in my hallway, I think to myself about whether that will bring bad luck. My family has a superstition that if you either step over a person who happens to be on the floor or walk in a complete circle around someone, you both acquire all of their sins and invite the evil eye upon them. I’ve never bought these ideas, but they do pop into my head whenever I step over my son while he’s playing on the floor. Continue reading “Lesson #2: The Chicago Blackhawks”
