Luck Schmuck

Written for my sister, Kim, for her 37th birthday, and read at the Lucky & zine reading ,both on January 7th 2016. 

Today is my sister's 37th birthday. My favorite number. My favorite sister (though also the only sister I grew up with). 37: Prime number. Odd and indivisible.

My sister was born January 7th 1979, the thirteenth day of Christmas--unlucky day of clearing the plates, taking down the tree, sweeping up after the wise men and getting back to work. Unlucky birthday of too close to Christmas, and extra unlucky if you care about football, playoff season and your 7th birthday party (here we go again) was held on the same day as the New England Patriots AFC playoff game versus the Miami Dolphins. Its bad enough to have your birthday smushed up against Christmas but then a tailgating themed party? Our 8 year old neighbor Josh Ross was almost sent home for wearing Dolphins colors in a strictly New England Patriots household. They tolerated my interest in the Minnesota vikings because it was never a contest and they all knew I just liked the purple and gold---ominous foretelling to my years at LSU live Purple bleed Gold.) Back to the party; we were an hour north of Boston, not Florida, you could tell by the snowdrifts, and the winner of the game was heading to the Superbowl against the Chicago Bears (and my birthday twin Walter Peyton) in New Orleans, my future home (this is too much!) but I was more interested in the Superbowl Shuffle. But who could blame an 8 year old boy with his lucky/unlucky red hair and freckles to choose the soft tropical turquoise and orange over the staunch red white and blue. It was just a game. The Patriots won the playoff game but then lost the Superbowl by a million, a few days after that the Challenger spaceship burst mid air on a million televisions. That was weeks later. On this day, my family relented and let Josh in for cake.

I was born mid-summer , July 25, 1977 so I've always believed in the number 7. Seventh month, 25th day , 77th year. The 25th is a good day too: Christmas, the day I got my braces off, an anniversary. Christmas in July. 2 plus 5 equals 7. Lucky 7. By the way, Walter Peyton, the aforementioned running back with my birthday was born in 1953 and wore uniform number 34. Thirty four: 3 plus 4 is seven. Also his nickname was “Sweetness” which is just about my favorite sports nickname I know.

There is a flaw to my 7 love. If you want to be strict about the rules of numerology--add all the digits of . 7th month, 25th day, 1977, 7 plus 2 plus 5 plus 1 plus 9 plus 7 plus7 equals 38-- so close! Add those digits: 3 plus 8 equals 11-- one plus one equals 2. Two! Such a solid, reliable number, firm like 2 feet, a relationship, but also a line, two endpoints. But what is religion without a little wiggle room, even science gets reformed according to needs sometimes. So ill take 7, soften the edges, no corners, a little lopsided, asymmetric, that sounds about right. I'm romanticizing numbers here but I will get back to my point. You're 37, sister. From here, you make your own luck.

38 (Thirty- Grateful)

I talk a lot about the weather here.  After almost 3 years in Oakland, the endlessly dry, sunny days, never-hot-enough summers, the lack of seasons, the numerous perfectly temperate days still make me uneasy.  There were a few days this week, finally warm enough to think of swimming, to feel the heat enveloping me even as a breeze brushed by. I say I miss sweating, swimming, staying inside because of a rainstorm, the dramatic skies that accompany a change in weather, but I also miss my friends in other places.  The amenities of my Bay Area life are plentiful, but I would trade a dozen vegan doughnuts for lunch in Philadelphia once or twice a month.  You can have a bay view sunset for a autumn evening in NH.  In exchange for 2 days access to the print shop, could I spend one weekend a month in New Orleans?  What would it take to be able to ride to a friends house in Portland, NY, Seattle, Tucson?  But there is no such barter system.  The down-side to a wonderfully adventurous and mobile 20's and a more stationary late 30's is that I you can't live in the same place as all the people you love. Or even half.  Luckily, many people are charmed by the Bay Area and I had a few old friends here when I arrived.  And I have met a few great people and I am grateful to have them as a part of my life now.  It is a slow process, nothing like the instant friendships of late night adventures after a show, while on tour, or a penal turned date turned penal again.  But it comes.

I complain a lot about California, about Bay Area drivers (if you are going to cede the right of way when it was yours, you don't have to feel smug about it). But slowly, a circle of friends and acquaintances build, layers, and I find myself talking about sequencing yoga classes and discoveries on our personal practice with other teachers. I meeting other printers for coffee and discuss business plans. I have friends who want to talk about art, and music, and even a few who will hear the stories I don't think they'd understudy because we are from different places, yet realizing our troubles--and our joys-- are more universal than that.  And you are willing to come to my place on a Saturday night, meet my other friends from seemingly disparate places and situations and find some common ground. And eat cake. Thank's y'all for a very sweet birthday.

This was also published at Keep Breathing, a blog about yoga-related writing. Not just poses but living life too.