I grew up with a very superstitious Irish father. Fear of anything 13, black cats, snakes, gremlins, etc.

My Dad was the ironworker you see in the old photos, sitting eating lunch on a steel beam 30 stories over the city. No safety equipment. No fear. Just jump up and walk the beam with a riveting gun and a pail of hot rivets.

As I got old enough to understand calendars my mother drilled into me not to tell Dad it was Friday the 13th. Why? Because my Dad would refuse to go to work. And we were dirt poor. My Dad refused to have his wife work and as a result our family survived on one often seasonal income. (I won’t even discuss the drinking and gambling effects on our family income.)

Being a long time union man, his coworkers knew his superstitious ways. No third light on a match for him. So a coworker yells from a steel beam 24 stories up, “Hunter what are you doing here on Friday the 13th?” My Dad dropped and hugged the girder. They needed a crane to get him back on the ground. When he got home it was not pretty.

I was a curly blonde haired, big blue eyes, and freckled faced girl. Thanks to the World of Disney I knew all about fairies and magic. I can remember my Dad declaring, when I couldn’t find my mitts, that the gremlins had stolen them. Apparently they slept behind the wood stove with the leprechauns. They were mischievous little buggers that made all sorts of things break or be hidden.

I once ran out of my room on the way to a great adventure outside. As I grabbed my shoes I realized I forgot socks and plunked my shoes on the table. As I came back into the kitchen my Mom is yelling, “Do you want to cause a death in our family?!?!” This seemed a little severe for forgetting to put on socks. That was the day I learned the consequences of putting shoes on the table. And here I thought it would be about getting dirt on the table.

I am a happy healthy 15 year old and my Dad is driving me to the town 10 minutes from our hometown. As we take the curve exit from the highway, and picking up speed into town, a black cat runs across the road. Dad slams on the brakes. I go flying into the dash, face against the windshield (before vehicles came with seatbelts). He fired it into reverse, and drove around the town to another entrance. And after, he drove out of town by another exit, avoiding the tainted section.

I learned quickly that like religion, superstition is more about needing something to manage life’s hopes, dreams, and cruelties. Reality sucks often and we need something to make us feel safe. To protect us. Make our odds of survival better. Whether this is a god we have never met or seen, or a force from the ladder that will cause bad luck when I walk under it. It’s all a way to try to take care of ourselves. A way to be safe and healthy. A way to problem solve. A way to be brave. My Dad let his fears and demons control how he behaved. Control his decisions. Control his problem solving in a logical manner. Damn, plan for his future.

My take is a little different. I do believe there is an invisible life force that gives me the intelligence and ability to care for everything and everyone. Some call it God, Buddha, Creator, etc. I choose to say Creator. I do believe we only use half our brain when all of it is available. We just haven’t figured out how to use those gifts. Although I believe that icons, symbols, and ceremonies can help one feel closer to our Creator, I have to be honest that I believe God gave me intelligence and caring. The rest is solely up to me. I am the Captain of my ship. I am in control of me and everything around me. I am.

May I be safe. May I be happy. May I be healthy. May I live with ease.