Pay heed to the tales of old wives. It may well be that they alone keep in memory what it was once needful for the wise to know. ~ The Lord of the Rings
My professional career was saturated with insurance, mostly in underwriting positions. That role fostered a need (compulsion?) for me to see potential hazards everywhere. When I walk into a restaurant, I check out the booths to see if customers have to step up—and then will have to remember to step down when they complete their meal. I look at the ceiling to confirm a sprinkler system. If there’s a bar, I assess the placement—on the same level as the restrooms? And what’s the fire load? Is there creosote running down the flue? Incidentally, that could be a sign of excellent food, but I digress.
In my childhood, I walked six blocks down 17th street to my grandmother’s house to wait for Mother to pick me up. I usually walked with a good friend (I’d call her an old friend, but she’s sensitive that way. Would she mind if I mentioned Eisenhower was president?) and we studiously avoided stepping on sidewalk cracks. Those of you who are a certain age will understand why. However, I STILL avoid cracks. I’ll bet she does, too, as she has long erred on the side of caution.
For as long as I can remember, I haven’t washed clothes on New Year’s Day. Apparently it’s a family thing. Anyone else? Were any of you told that a family member would die the coming year if you did a load of clothes the first day of the year? Personally, I think it’s an old wives’ tale designed by old wives to avoid a particular kind of labor for at least one day of the year. But I could be wrong. Do I want to be responsible for someone’s demise?
One more. For years I drank a Coca Cola™ as soon as I arrived at work. Over the last decade it’s evolved to coffee, but it’s a shot of caffeine, either way. Some might say that it improves your attention span, your brain waves, your creativity. Since I have occasionally been forced to fast for a blood test or tight schedule, there have been situations that prevented me from enjoying my hot drink well past the time I was interested in consuming it. Therefore, I can attest to the fact that I miss the idea of it. Not. It.
My point, and I do have one, is that we all have some go-to actions that are second nature. I understand why I have my old baggage, and how much credence to grant the patterns that baggage represents. However, I am proactively developing new habits that are more applicable [and useful] to my current stage of life. For example, I look around to make sure I’m not being observed by others more than is necessary, especially in parking lots. I make sure the walking surface just ahead is safe. I attempt eye contact with drivers at four-way stops before I make a turn. Given the mortality tables, I have less time left than I have already traveled. I want to use that time intentionally, not on autopilot.
All that said, please hear me when I say that some rituals are useful. Perhaps even comforting. I might point to the featured image as an example. Its selection is no accident. Years ago a good friend noticed when we were in meetings that I was consistently (continually?) straightening my writing tablet and pencils. I hadn’t realized I was doing it. Apparently I need order in the worst way, but thanks, Amy, for raising my awareness level. 😉
So, some things have a purpose, or at least we think they do. Some do not, and I’m not convinced we should keep them. Did you ever hear the story about a woman who always cut the ends off of a ham before she baked it? Her mother did it that way and her grandmother before her. The young woman did not know why until her curiosity got the better of her and she went to the source. No, no flavor or tenderness impact. Her grandmother’s oven was too small for a whole ham.
Maybe I need to take yet another look at long-held assumptions and make sure I understand exactly why I am holding on to some of those ancient relics.
You?
