Nov 26, 2022
I think by talking too much about my superstitions, I ended up jinxing the team.
Well, I think I jinxed them. My sons’ football team fought hard all season and last Friday night they were bested by a very fast and athletic opponent. The boys were gloomy for just a little while. They quickly realized they had overachieved and then they held their heads high. I’m very proud of them.
I guess a jinx and a superstition are two different sides of the same coin. Superstitions are proactive and meant to bring hoped-for results. I once carried a tiny single serving bottle of Tabasco in my travel computer bag because I had never died in an airplane crash as long as it was in there. Superstitions are intentional. And it is my considered opinion – meaning I’ve thought about this for about thirty seconds now - that jinxs bring bad luck and are a realized in hindsight. Such as me talking so much about my superstations for my sons’ football team actually jinxed them. It’s in hindsight that this has now become abundantly clear.
Since it’s the Friday after Thanksgiving you’re wondering if the food hall-pass you gave yourself yesterday to eat and drink much more than a responsible human should is still active. Well, it is. That hall pass lasts until midday Sunday. So, yes, go get the mashed potatoes and a half-dozen Sister Shuberts for breakfast. Dinner, too! Carbs don’t count until midday Sunday. Myself, I’ll be cooking a pound of Bill E’s bacon in the oven and putting it on my Sister Shuberts. It is my considered opinion that Bill E’s Bacon is the best in the world. They’re based in Fairhope. Please don’t even consider raising your voice to argue. I won’t have it.
It's the Friday morning after Thanksgiving that I carefully go through yesterday’s family conversations and try to remember if I offended anyone. Happily, that rarely happens anymore. The whole Marston family - seventeen of us - will have been under one roof last night. Those tight quarters along with the delirium of a food comma and, perhaps, a glass of wine too many may have caused me to run off at the mouth. Friday mornings I retrace my conversational steps and begin rehearsing my apologies if needed. I’ve learned that one pre-emptive apology at 2pm Thanksgiving Day for everything that I might say later in the day or that night doesn’t count. I wish it did.
However, my family seldom goes down those paths anymore. We’re able to keep controversy out of the celebration or, more likely, avoid dangerous topics. And it helps when you really like your family, your in-laws, and your nieces and nephews, and I genuinely do. I don’t want to get sideways with any of them. The same is true with my wife’s family gathering every summer on the Carolina coast. We had sixteen people under one roof for a week last summer and everybody got along. I kinda miss the days when there’d be a misunderstanding, someone would get angry and, if we got lucky, they’d blow up and make a scene. It offered some wonderful diversions from good cheer and wholesome togetherness and family bonds and all that.
Aww, heck. I’ve probably just jinxed myself again.
I’m Cam Marston and I’m just trying to Keep It Real.