Walking through Panera Bread, I hit my elbow on the edge of a piece of furniture, right on the funny bone. It smarted, to be sure. But I didnt rub it, or even touch it, despite the fact that a quick massage of the joint probably would have assuaged the pain. Why? Because I want a surprise. Did they tell you that when you were a kid? Dont rub it, youll get a surprise. Not as some sort of reward, like the grown ups were going to buy me a surprise for not rubbing it, but that fate and good luck would smile upon me, for enduring, and then ignoring, this bump on the elbow. Im a college graduate who has been on this earth more years than I care to remember. I have learned many things, and I know there is no logical reason NOT to rub my sore elbow. The link between cause and effect of clumsily whomping your joint and the ensuing surprise to follow, clearly has no rationale to exist. So why as a fully grown man, do I respect such a silly notion? Superstitious? Maybe, but not here. Ignorance. Immodestly, I say no. So why? Because in a silly, ultimately benign way, it connects this me, with my inner child me, the one who would listen to and enjoy two loving parents, and a great family, even if they were perpetuating a goofy, albeit harmless, wives tale, like this one. So, I sit here, throbbing elbow untended, expecting a surprise later. And I DO expect a surprise, mind you. My mother told me so. But dont go whack your elbow intentionally! You wont get a surprise that way. Youre not allowed to try to beat the system like that. She told me that too. There are a million more meaningful ways we remember people dear to us than this, but I find it comforting that some of the silliest are also the most enduring.
Posted on: Sun, 25 May 2014 16:22:59 +0000
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