I grew up without superstitions.

My mother didn’t have any, and when I stayed with her mother, she didn’t have any either, so I didn’t know about the danger of a black cat crossing my path, or the years of bad luck that would befall me if I broke a mirror.

I’m glad I didn’t need to worry about it. I was an adult when I met Bob, who was seriously superstitiously challenged. We were at a dinner with a group of people and Bob was sitting across from me. I looked up to see him throwing something over his shoulder and I asked, “What happened?”

He replied that he spilled some salt. I’m thinking, “Of course you did. You just threw it on the floor,” but I didn’t want to be rude, so I just nodded or looked vacant, or went on eating, or all of the above.



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