When I was a kid, Friday the 13th meant two things:
1. It was a day for BAD LUCK.
2. Slasher movies in general.
Now how did I know it was a day for BAD LUCK? Well, that’s what everybody said. We even had a slasher movie devoted to the idea. When I started writing this essay, I thought that I’d be able to make reference to the Brady Bunch episode dedicated to Friday the 13th, the Laverne and Shirley episode dedicated to Friday the 13th, and the Gilligan’s Island episode dedicated to Friday the 13th.
A nice way to make a filler episode with some straightforward gags that I’m sure you can imagine right now. Heck, you may even remember them like I do.
And in researching for the various gags that I was sure I remembered, it turns out that there weren’t any. What? I was sure that I remembered stuff where… I dunno. One of the characters lost a favorite jacket or earring or something. An episode where bad stuff kept happening and people kept saying “Bad Luck!” Maybe an episode of Barney Miller where Nick Yemana kept saying “Bad Luck” when Wojo kept spilling his coffee and Barney Miller kept yelling “that’s a superstition!” allowing Dietrich to give a short monologue about how the concept of bad luck may be less about external forces and more a psychological coping mechanism in that it’s a way for the brain to assign meaning to randomness and help reduce anxiety by imposing a narrative upon the chaos that is life.
Man, I miss that show.
Anyway. None of those shows happened. There was a “bad luck” show of Laverne and Shirley but that’s because somebody broke a chain letter. There was a “bad luck” show of the Brady Bunch but that’s because Peter found that bad luck Tiki. Gilligan was just kind of bad luck in general.
So how in the heck did “Friday the 13th” is bad luck enter the zeitgeist without, you know, sitcoms?
The Library of Congress got asked that and wrote an entire essay about it and talked about the whole Knights Templar thing (which was debunked), the Last Supper thing (which was debunked), the Code of Hammurabi thing (which was debunked), and the Norse Gods killing of Baldr thing (which was debunked).
Apparently, it was a French thing and somehow got over here. Where did it come from in France? Well… they didn’t really get into that. They talked about an old French joke about a guy who thought about committing suicide until he realized that it was Friday the 13th and he didn’t want to do it because it’d bring bad luck. See? A nice little French joke.
The article concludes that maybe it was something only vaguely lightly held in France and then Americans learned about it, assumed that it was deeply felt instead of lightly held, and then mocked the heck out of the French for being so superstitious. And, after a few decades of that, forgot that they were making fun of the French when they said “Friday the 13th? Bad luck!”
And so now I’m just trying to figure out why *I* thought it was bad luck to the point where they talked about it in sitcoms.
Maybe I just needed a reason to feel like a random Friday meant something.
Anyway, tomorrow is Friday the 13th. I’m going to Costco to pick up some staples and some pizza for dinner.
Wish me luck.
So… what’s on your docket?
(Featured image is “Aware”. Photo taken by Maribou.)
Some of the bad luck things I understand. Walking under a ladder increases the chances — perhaps substantially — that something heavy will get dropped on you. Breaking a mirror? Until historically recent times, mirrors were so damned expensive that breaking one was its own bad luck. Same with spilling salt; it was valuable stuff.
Everywhere I’ve lived since I had delusions of adulthood I’ve tried to poke into at least some of the 100-125 years back history. The settlement that would become Lincoln, NE was on Salt Creek. Named that because it leached enough salt out of the low-level deposit that extracting and selling it could be a viable business for at least one family. Lasted until the discovery of the big Kansas salt domes, at which point salt became (almost) as cheap as dirt.
Wait what…Kansas salt domes? Well I’ll be…and most of that is within two hours or so of where I grew up and this is the first I’ve heard of it. There’s a museum in Hutchinson so maybe I’ll drag the family out for a visit next time I visit my Dad.
One of my BILs worked in the salt mine where the museum is for his first job out of high school. He does not speak fondly of it.
It’s always interesting when local products are still available. Carey brand table salt is apparently still a thing. At the Kroger chain local to me, down on the bottom shelf in the baking goods aisle, is Great Western brand sugar. Some of the beets that go into that are grown in Colorado. There’s a stub of the still-operating Great Western railroad built to service the sugar beet industry across the road from where I live.
Weekend post mortem:
Friday we attended a chorus concert that was really adventurous musically. Absolutely blown away by the performance. This was preceded by dinner at a local sausage restaurant that was equally enjoyable.
Saturday we took a jaunt down to the South Side so my partner could go to an event at a yarn shop. We had lunch at the local diner that hasn’t changed a bit in the 30 years I’ve been dining there. Wish there was a spot like that near the house! I went to the neighborhood record shop and picked up a couple of Chicago power pop albums.
Sunday was Father’s Day, which means the last round of the U.S. Open. This year’s tourney had a thrilling finish, mostly due to the course finally getting the better of the golfers. The winner sank a 64′ putt to clinch. I love watching this every year.
A 64′ putt?
I was 50/50 on 6′!
He got a really good read from Viktor Hovland. I’m the same from close in!