Friday, November 13, 2009

Happy Friday the Thirteenth

Canoelover, April 13, 1963. Note the drool.

Once every 212.35 days, we have a Friday the Thirteenth.

This means I have lived through and survived approximately 75 or so Friday the Thirteenths.

The most important one, however, was the first one. I was born on April 13, 1962. Problem is I was supposed to be born sometime in June. As a result of arriving on stage before my cue, I weighed a whopping three pounds, six ounces. This was well over 40 years ago, when anything under five was considered a fairly hopeless cause.

The odds the doctor gave my parents were as follows:
1) He has about a 25% chance of living 24 hours.
2) If he lives 24 hours, he has about a 50% chance of living a week.
3) If he lives a week, he'll probably keep living.
4) He'll have lung problems his whole life and might be blind.

I beat the odds. Never had a lung problem, and had 20/10 vision until my middle-aged eyes started their obstinate, quiet march toward reader glasses. I now weigh over 200 pounds (probably could stand to lose ten).

I've had my share of challenges in the past 47 years, 7 months. Apparently none of them have registered as anything but pale in comparison to the first one...just surviving a week. If I can survive that one, chances are I can survive this one too.

As Hans Solo said to C-3PO in the first Star Wars, "Never tell me the odds."

Respectfully submitted,



JohnB said...

I will never forget your birthday again--my daughter was born on April 13th, only in 1980--gosh she'll be 30 next year! But I'm the new 30!!!

Steverino said...

Hmmmm. The juxtaposition of the numbers 47, 7, and 13. Most auspicious. Could be you'll find your missing electronica.