your papa's writing is sumptuous, and as for you, courageous and glorious Suleika, i just want to say thank you for putting your fears on the page, because in doing so you have thrown something of a lifeline to who knows how many, but certainly to this someone who in the last two months has suddenly found herself in a body that's been broken in ways i'd never imagined (lung cancer) and whose exhaustion and fears are fairly constant companions. so i read your sentences about being in the Champs Elysee and feeling the whole surreal swirl, and suddenly recognizing my own inner life. and in an instant i felt so much less alone. bless you. praying you come home stronger than ever. in the deepest of ways. and somehow i have no doubt there....
Barbara, I’ve read your post 3 times, and will be coming back to it again today and the days that follow. My breath caught when I read your lifeline remark. Things like what you wrote here save me every day, and my fervent wish is for your healing and many more opportunities for you to write more beautiful things. Please be well. ♥️
Bless you soo much. It is the most piercingly true thing that deep cords of the soul can spontaneously surge forth even among utter strangers, who suddenly are not strangers but soul comrades. I feel you as scaffolding to my own currently wobbly self. Thank you.
I’m so glad you feel less alone. It is so important. We are truly blessed for this wonderful space created by Suleika. She’s a super hero to me and so is this community. I wish for you that you feel the love of others and the light you bring which illuminates us all. ❤️
It takes some courage to face places that hold parts of us, or of our story, hostage in some way. I find returning to places I lived very emotional and sometimes just too hard, memories sweet and sharp in equal measure. So well done for going back, well done for facing it, feeling it, embracing it. Loved the piece by your Papa too ❤️
Thank you, it's something I'm very familiar with. The maps of some cities are etched onto my hands, with memories on every corner. It is always brave to go back in-person...
"It takes courage to face places that hold parts of us, or of our story, hostage in some way." Hostage is such an appropriate term here, as that is exactly what can happen in different experiences.
dear suleika. i have been a subscriber for a long time. I have commented maybe once over that course and i have never attended the sunday hatch events but have wanted to since subscribing. today moved me deeply. your father's writing captivated me, the idea that darkness and nighttime fears were relieved by the heartfelt loving oral gifts of his aunties, this made my heart swell. such beauty and grace and care implanted deeply into the soul of your papa, and no doubt countless others including yourself by blood, by the profoundness of ancestral linkings, by the knowings that are brought forward through the simple acts of storytelling. thank you. you are living a most courageous, heart driven life and extending and expanding so many lives in the process. again, thank you.
I am delighted you faced your fear and returned Paris for Jon’s extraordinary gigs. Seems Paris wanted you back to apologize and only a grand gesture would do. Bless you on your newest leg of your journey💗 enjoy every moment.
I am the storyteller in our family. The keeper of the stories, and I ask a lot of questions, usually to the annoyance of whatever family member I am pumping for details. I love the description Mr. Jaouad paints of the elders in his family, recounting family lore and the beliefs they carried. As for "Place" holding power...it does for me and I realize it doesn't for others. I went back to the house we lived in , the year my dad was in Vietnam (1969-1970). I laid foot on that land since we left after Dad returned from the war. For my 60th birthday, I wanted and did go back there. As we turned into the neighborhood, I knew the way and I began to cry, and the cry turned into sobs as I stepped out of our car and stepped on the land I last knew at age 8. There was our humble townhouse, our backyard, the window I waved to Dad as he headed to the airport to leave for Vietnam. I sobbed uncontrollably, much to the utter helplessness of my partner. He thought I would be glad to go back. And I was, but that "place" carried with it, a time of innocence, of laughter, childhood games on the sidewalk, and a remembrance of a "goodbye" when my dad told me not to cry, that I had to be "strong." We wear and carry it all, or at least, I do. Suleika and Mr. Jaouad, thank you both for your stories today, as they make me feel less alone in the power of place.
Difficult to "like" this story, Mary. But I relate so much, I just had to tell you. I think places hold our energy and I've had experiences much like yours, where a place evoked an emotional response . I am also the storyteller in my family. I always wanted to hear the stories of my elders, and now at 69, I'm the elder and the one who holds the family stories. Thank you for sharing this story 🫶💖
Yes, I know what you mean about the only option being "Like." Thank you, Jeanine. Oh, those family stories, the perfume our mother's wore, the sound of the coffee in the percolator, girls not being allowed to wear pants to school...I imagine you (wherever you are) recounting those details; those details that hold the marrow.
Right? Thanks, Mary. My girlfriends and I staged a granny dress protest in high school in 1971- we could wear dresses but no pants so we all wore our long dresses and the staff was upset but couldn't do anything because they were still dresses! So, we started the ball rolling, and by my junior year we could wear pants! You say you want a revolution 🎵🎶🎵
Hey! We're still young and we can still be wild! Actually, more wild now because we don't give a rats ass what anyone else thinks! (Although we never hurt others-our actions are benign, always-at least that's my life creed.)
Where did you live in '71 JeannineBee? Im my high school in '72 we had the same rule only dresses, no pants for girls. Some students in our school also wore long dresses and got expelled for distracting attention. same reason they gave for not allowing dresses that were too short. Eventually they changed the dress code to Midi skirts allowed, Maxi length not allowed. We were in PA. Good for you on the granny revolution! That same school finally allowed the seniors to sing "Give Peace A Chance" at graduation and that was huge progress after many conversations.
Oh gosh Ann- you really brought back memories! You school sounds so similar. Those poor teachers were trying to hold back the tide😂. I graduated in northern CA in 1972. Singing "Give Peace a Chance " at graduation is huge! I don't think we could have gotten away with that. But we did have a big outdoor assembly on the football field for the first Earth Day celebration. Thanks for going down memory lane with me.🩷🐝
How fun to go down memory lane with you! I have lived in NorCal for the last 28 years and was in Sunnyvale in 86 when I got married. I’ve lived in 8 states and 28 towns but this is home. Are you still here? I’m in Morgan Hill
I think this is a half superstition- so many people died in my childhood. My mother, grandparents that I never knew, a neighbor who committed suicide, another with a heart attack- hearing his wife's scream of discovery. Oh yes first of all my cousin Bobby from Leukemia at 14 (then a death sentence) could go on-but it was an 11 year-old -and I remember my brother David and I sitting at the top of the stairs at my Aunt Sophie's afraid to sleep because we would not wake up. I was fearful of living and that became a superstition that I would not as i made one achievement or took on adventure after another. And then after deciding not to have children- I adopted an older child and became the first single women in a large city to be approved. I took control of what I cold for my health and well being. I still had fears but much fear as I aged- and now I am old but my dermatologist told me on Wednesday not to say old again.. i believe him as we are friends.
I’m always so uplifted by your entries, Suleika, but this one especially made me smile. How we face our fears (and as you father beautifully says, “how we shorten the night”) is best done through telling and sharing our stories. Not only did you face down your superstition, you lit a path for us by sharing your story. BRAVA!
When I was a young girl from age 4to 12 I was never allowed to go to funerals, and wondered why people always when they dressed for a funeral wore black. As a result I became very superstitious growing older wearing black, because I thought I would die and living in NYC and NOT being the woman who wore “basic black” I always wore colorful clothing. When I began going to funerals at age 14 it was terrifying and really challenging for me to wear dark colors and later on in my life I began not wearing “basic black” to funerals, because it was by own way of celebrating and honoring that person’s life.
Suleika you are a warrior! So thrilled in spite of all that happened to you years back in Paris that you faced your fear and went with Jon and your entire family to Paris. Hooray for you! I viewed on live streaming some of Jon’s concert in Paris and it was magical, spiritual and motivated me to get up to dance to his new song “You Can Be Who You Are!” That song gives us a powerful message, giving us permission with all our limitations and superstitions to be who we are and joyfully declare to ourselves and to the world!
I like that you celebrated and honored the person by not wearing basic black to funerals, and also that it honored your feelings about it. That’s powerful.
Thank you. Sometimes the people who are at funeral misunderstand and believe in the dark colors, but that’s okay because I showed up and paid my respects
Sherri, I also avoid black. I prefer colorful clothing. I had to wear black for a funeral too young and I never wanted to wear it again . Not really by superstition but by association.
Suleika, when you said that your illness was not Paris’s fault, that is exactly at the heart of it all. We want to put events or experiences into a context that makes sense. But when we assign a thing to a place, or say “if I had only…” we hand over the randomness of life. We somehow make it our own fault that something bad happened because of where we went, what we said or what we did.
My mind as a child was given to exploding fantasies and supposings about things I had no way of rationalizing. All it took was one comment or one experience and I was off and running, forming a scenario to make it my own. Superstition? Possibly. Wild imagination of my young mind is probably more accurate.
What Mr. Jaouad wrote captures some of my feelings as a child. Is everything random? Is it all orchestrated? Does the darkness bring bad things along with it? If we believe that does, then it does and until something happens to dispel the thought, it will always be connected. Thank you, Sir, for your beautiful words and expressing so beautifully how completely you embraced the unknown as a child.
And to you, Suleika, I am so glad that you stepped over your fear about going to Paris to be able to have the experience of a lifetime, because after it was over, I believe you would have regretted not going. (Although I would probably have to throw those tennis shoes away.☺️)
Superstition was my life when I was a child. I grew up in Northern New Mexico and superstitions were always strong in the little communities surrounding the little community I lived in. Los Alamos, in those days, was a secret city, based and built on science, but not just any science, the science of the atom bomb and the terror that, as a child, I knew humanity could totally annihilate itself. Superstitions were my link to surviving in an atmosphere of the fear of the bomb. We literally lived under the cloud my friends and I used to say. The surrounding Hispanic communities had deeply held superstitions that we also nurtured as we grew up, taking in and absorbing the tale of La Llorana, the ghost woman who drowned her children in the Rio Grande and returned each night searching for them. Looking back, I am amazed at how strong my superstitions are today, in my 70’s, coming from such à scientific background. The weave themselves through my days, and become my dreams at night.
As far as I can remember, Black Cats were believed to be a clear and present danger, an evil omen that something terrible would happen. The horror of seeing a black cat tortured at five years old left an indelible mark on my heart, and as an adult, I have only adopted black cats, and they have tended to and cared for me just as much as I have loved and cared for them.
Victor Lamar Jones, Melissa Missy Masters, and Smudge Nina Tenderheart have been constant companions in my life, from a perch in the recording studio to a traveling kitty, to licking my tears after being dumped by a boyfriend, to years later approving that I could marry my husband, to being protective of our baby, to staying up all night as I persisted in finishing undergrad at 40, to laying beside me when I couldn't bear to face the day at the passing of my mother and years later, my darling Chrissy (brother) to moving to the northeast and handling the transition like a boss - my Black Cats have been some of the greatest
blessings in my life, and I can't imagine what my life would've looked like without them.🐈⬛🖤🐾
Thank you, Hedi, for this therapeutic moment. I'm going to buy your book!
Beautiful post by both you & your papa! I loved your fathers tales. I lived on a farm with friends after college & we were off the grid so nights were storytelling and made up game shows by candle or lantern light .....one favorite was someone humming the tune to a tv show (the 60’s had classic distinctive intro music) and we all had to guess the show. Also music was another after dinner show & I learned to play the spoons to my friends dulcimers & guitars. I’m always more creative when I have less, whether it’s cooking or creating....less is more for the creative to dig down & discover.
Dear Suleika and Mr. Jaouad, your writing is stunning. Thank you for illuminating the 🌎 with your heart-felt powerful writing. I am deeply moved. Yes to illuminating the darkness. ❤️
When I heard you were going to Paris again, I said, “Oh no!” But how could you not go, was also my thought. Good for you! ... I also hold superstitions in my heart and I have no idea what precipitated them. As a young child, I was far braver than I am today as an adult.
Love this post. I have to comment on going back to Paris you talk about. Our family can relate to that in a way. With us it wasn't a case of visiting anywhere it was more the time of year. That was the time leading up to Christmas Eve to new years last year. Going back to 2021 that was when my daughter got quite sick and issues got worse. In 2022 as those days approached I admit i had a hard time enjoying that time because of the memories and being on alert in case history repeated itself again. Thankfully it didn't. Once we got through those days I was able to breathe easier. Your prompt on superstitions is interesting. I didn't have much of it except when i was playing baseball. I would have to do things the same way before every game. My parents never really knew or understood it.
your papa's writing is sumptuous, and as for you, courageous and glorious Suleika, i just want to say thank you for putting your fears on the page, because in doing so you have thrown something of a lifeline to who knows how many, but certainly to this someone who in the last two months has suddenly found herself in a body that's been broken in ways i'd never imagined (lung cancer) and whose exhaustion and fears are fairly constant companions. so i read your sentences about being in the Champs Elysee and feeling the whole surreal swirl, and suddenly recognizing my own inner life. and in an instant i felt so much less alone. bless you. praying you come home stronger than ever. in the deepest of ways. and somehow i have no doubt there....
Sending strength to you, Barbara, and so much love.
bless you. so so much.
Barbara, I’ve read your post 3 times, and will be coming back to it again today and the days that follow. My breath caught when I read your lifeline remark. Things like what you wrote here save me every day, and my fervent wish is for your healing and many more opportunities for you to write more beautiful things. Please be well. ♥️
Bless you soo much. It is the most piercingly true thing that deep cords of the soul can spontaneously surge forth even among utter strangers, who suddenly are not strangers but soul comrades. I feel you as scaffolding to my own currently wobbly self. Thank you.
I am honored to lift you up, my friend. ♥️
I’m so glad you feel less alone. It is so important. We are truly blessed for this wonderful space created by Suleika. She’s a super hero to me and so is this community. I wish for you that you feel the love of others and the light you bring which illuminates us all. ❤️
It takes some courage to face places that hold parts of us, or of our story, hostage in some way. I find returning to places I lived very emotional and sometimes just too hard, memories sweet and sharp in equal measure. So well done for going back, well done for facing it, feeling it, embracing it. Loved the piece by your Papa too ❤️
I agree with Susan--the idea of a place holding a part of the self hostage really speaks to me.
Thank you, it's something I'm very familiar with. The maps of some cities are etched onto my hands, with memories on every corner. It is always brave to go back in-person...
"It takes courage to face places that hold parts of us, or of our story, hostage in some way." Hostage is such an appropriate term here, as that is exactly what can happen in different experiences.
Thank you Susan! I think it's exactly how it feels, parts of our story will always be there, they can't break free.
dear suleika. i have been a subscriber for a long time. I have commented maybe once over that course and i have never attended the sunday hatch events but have wanted to since subscribing. today moved me deeply. your father's writing captivated me, the idea that darkness and nighttime fears were relieved by the heartfelt loving oral gifts of his aunties, this made my heart swell. such beauty and grace and care implanted deeply into the soul of your papa, and no doubt countless others including yourself by blood, by the profoundness of ancestral linkings, by the knowings that are brought forward through the simple acts of storytelling. thank you. you are living a most courageous, heart driven life and extending and expanding so many lives in the process. again, thank you.
I'm so glad you commented this week Antonia. Thank you for your beautiful words.
thank you.
I am delighted you faced your fear and returned Paris for Jon’s extraordinary gigs. Seems Paris wanted you back to apologize and only a grand gesture would do. Bless you on your newest leg of your journey💗 enjoy every moment.
Love the idea of Paris making a grand gesture so much! ❤️
I love your conclusion that Paris owed Suleika an apology! (As it should!) Brilliant, that!
I am the storyteller in our family. The keeper of the stories, and I ask a lot of questions, usually to the annoyance of whatever family member I am pumping for details. I love the description Mr. Jaouad paints of the elders in his family, recounting family lore and the beliefs they carried. As for "Place" holding power...it does for me and I realize it doesn't for others. I went back to the house we lived in , the year my dad was in Vietnam (1969-1970). I laid foot on that land since we left after Dad returned from the war. For my 60th birthday, I wanted and did go back there. As we turned into the neighborhood, I knew the way and I began to cry, and the cry turned into sobs as I stepped out of our car and stepped on the land I last knew at age 8. There was our humble townhouse, our backyard, the window I waved to Dad as he headed to the airport to leave for Vietnam. I sobbed uncontrollably, much to the utter helplessness of my partner. He thought I would be glad to go back. And I was, but that "place" carried with it, a time of innocence, of laughter, childhood games on the sidewalk, and a remembrance of a "goodbye" when my dad told me not to cry, that I had to be "strong." We wear and carry it all, or at least, I do. Suleika and Mr. Jaouad, thank you both for your stories today, as they make me feel less alone in the power of place.
Difficult to "like" this story, Mary. But I relate so much, I just had to tell you. I think places hold our energy and I've had experiences much like yours, where a place evoked an emotional response . I am also the storyteller in my family. I always wanted to hear the stories of my elders, and now at 69, I'm the elder and the one who holds the family stories. Thank you for sharing this story 🫶💖
Yes, I know what you mean about the only option being "Like." Thank you, Jeanine. Oh, those family stories, the perfume our mother's wore, the sound of the coffee in the percolator, girls not being allowed to wear pants to school...I imagine you (wherever you are) recounting those details; those details that hold the marrow.
Right? Thanks, Mary. My girlfriends and I staged a granny dress protest in high school in 1971- we could wear dresses but no pants so we all wore our long dresses and the staff was upset but couldn't do anything because they were still dresses! So, we started the ball rolling, and by my junior year we could wear pants! You say you want a revolution 🎵🎶🎵
I love everything about this reply. The Beatles lyric just took it over the top! 🥰
Thanks Peg! Oh to be young and wild again😂
71 was my sophomore year but we were wearing pants I believe. Now I’ll have to dig out my yearbook and check!😁
Hey! We're still young and we can still be wild! Actually, more wild now because we don't give a rats ass what anyone else thinks! (Although we never hurt others-our actions are benign, always-at least that's my life creed.)
Where did you live in '71 JeannineBee? Im my high school in '72 we had the same rule only dresses, no pants for girls. Some students in our school also wore long dresses and got expelled for distracting attention. same reason they gave for not allowing dresses that were too short. Eventually they changed the dress code to Midi skirts allowed, Maxi length not allowed. We were in PA. Good for you on the granny revolution! That same school finally allowed the seniors to sing "Give Peace A Chance" at graduation and that was huge progress after many conversations.
Oh gosh Ann- you really brought back memories! You school sounds so similar. Those poor teachers were trying to hold back the tide😂. I graduated in northern CA in 1972. Singing "Give Peace a Chance " at graduation is huge! I don't think we could have gotten away with that. But we did have a big outdoor assembly on the football field for the first Earth Day celebration. Thanks for going down memory lane with me.🩷🐝
How fun to go down memory lane with you! I have lived in NorCal for the last 28 years and was in Sunnyvale in 86 when I got married. I’ve lived in 8 states and 28 towns but this is home. Are you still here? I’m in Morgan Hill
I think this is a half superstition- so many people died in my childhood. My mother, grandparents that I never knew, a neighbor who committed suicide, another with a heart attack- hearing his wife's scream of discovery. Oh yes first of all my cousin Bobby from Leukemia at 14 (then a death sentence) could go on-but it was an 11 year-old -and I remember my brother David and I sitting at the top of the stairs at my Aunt Sophie's afraid to sleep because we would not wake up. I was fearful of living and that became a superstition that I would not as i made one achievement or took on adventure after another. And then after deciding not to have children- I adopted an older child and became the first single women in a large city to be approved. I took control of what I cold for my health and well being. I still had fears but much fear as I aged- and now I am old but my dermatologist told me on Wednesday not to say old again.. i believe him as we are friends.
🪶
I’m always so uplifted by your entries, Suleika, but this one especially made me smile. How we face our fears (and as you father beautifully says, “how we shorten the night”) is best done through telling and sharing our stories. Not only did you face down your superstition, you lit a path for us by sharing your story. BRAVA!
When I was a young girl from age 4to 12 I was never allowed to go to funerals, and wondered why people always when they dressed for a funeral wore black. As a result I became very superstitious growing older wearing black, because I thought I would die and living in NYC and NOT being the woman who wore “basic black” I always wore colorful clothing. When I began going to funerals at age 14 it was terrifying and really challenging for me to wear dark colors and later on in my life I began not wearing “basic black” to funerals, because it was by own way of celebrating and honoring that person’s life.
Suleika you are a warrior! So thrilled in spite of all that happened to you years back in Paris that you faced your fear and went with Jon and your entire family to Paris. Hooray for you! I viewed on live streaming some of Jon’s concert in Paris and it was magical, spiritual and motivated me to get up to dance to his new song “You Can Be Who You Are!” That song gives us a powerful message, giving us permission with all our limitations and superstitions to be who we are and joyfully declare to ourselves and to the world!
Thank you 🙏
I like that you celebrated and honored the person by not wearing basic black to funerals, and also that it honored your feelings about it. That’s powerful.
Thank you. Sometimes the people who are at funeral misunderstand and believe in the dark colors, but that’s okay because I showed up and paid my respects
Sherri, I also avoid black. I prefer colorful clothing. I had to wear black for a funeral too young and I never wanted to wear it again . Not really by superstition but by association.
Do you truly understand where I’m coming from. 🙏
Meant to say you do understand
Paris Dragon slayed! 💃
I see the eloquent writing gene runs in the family.
Until The Desert Blooms sounds fascinating.
Suleika, when you said that your illness was not Paris’s fault, that is exactly at the heart of it all. We want to put events or experiences into a context that makes sense. But when we assign a thing to a place, or say “if I had only…” we hand over the randomness of life. We somehow make it our own fault that something bad happened because of where we went, what we said or what we did.
My mind as a child was given to exploding fantasies and supposings about things I had no way of rationalizing. All it took was one comment or one experience and I was off and running, forming a scenario to make it my own. Superstition? Possibly. Wild imagination of my young mind is probably more accurate.
What Mr. Jaouad wrote captures some of my feelings as a child. Is everything random? Is it all orchestrated? Does the darkness bring bad things along with it? If we believe that does, then it does and until something happens to dispel the thought, it will always be connected. Thank you, Sir, for your beautiful words and expressing so beautifully how completely you embraced the unknown as a child.
And to you, Suleika, I am so glad that you stepped over your fear about going to Paris to be able to have the experience of a lifetime, because after it was over, I believe you would have regretted not going. (Although I would probably have to throw those tennis shoes away.☺️)
Superstition was my life when I was a child. I grew up in Northern New Mexico and superstitions were always strong in the little communities surrounding the little community I lived in. Los Alamos, in those days, was a secret city, based and built on science, but not just any science, the science of the atom bomb and the terror that, as a child, I knew humanity could totally annihilate itself. Superstitions were my link to surviving in an atmosphere of the fear of the bomb. We literally lived under the cloud my friends and I used to say. The surrounding Hispanic communities had deeply held superstitions that we also nurtured as we grew up, taking in and absorbing the tale of La Llorana, the ghost woman who drowned her children in the Rio Grande and returned each night searching for them. Looking back, I am amazed at how strong my superstitions are today, in my 70’s, coming from such à scientific background. The weave themselves through my days, and become my dreams at night.
"Under the Cloud" would make a great memoir title. ❤️
As far as I can remember, Black Cats were believed to be a clear and present danger, an evil omen that something terrible would happen. The horror of seeing a black cat tortured at five years old left an indelible mark on my heart, and as an adult, I have only adopted black cats, and they have tended to and cared for me just as much as I have loved and cared for them.
Victor Lamar Jones, Melissa Missy Masters, and Smudge Nina Tenderheart have been constant companions in my life, from a perch in the recording studio to a traveling kitty, to licking my tears after being dumped by a boyfriend, to years later approving that I could marry my husband, to being protective of our baby, to staying up all night as I persisted in finishing undergrad at 40, to laying beside me when I couldn't bear to face the day at the passing of my mother and years later, my darling Chrissy (brother) to moving to the northeast and handling the transition like a boss - my Black Cats have been some of the greatest
blessings in my life, and I can't imagine what my life would've looked like without them.🐈⬛🖤🐾
Thank you, Hedi, for this therapeutic moment. I'm going to buy your book!
Beautiful post by both you & your papa! I loved your fathers tales. I lived on a farm with friends after college & we were off the grid so nights were storytelling and made up game shows by candle or lantern light .....one favorite was someone humming the tune to a tv show (the 60’s had classic distinctive intro music) and we all had to guess the show. Also music was another after dinner show & I learned to play the spoons to my friends dulcimers & guitars. I’m always more creative when I have less, whether it’s cooking or creating....less is more for the creative to dig down & discover.
Dear Suleika and Mr. Jaouad, your writing is stunning. Thank you for illuminating the 🌎 with your heart-felt powerful writing. I am deeply moved. Yes to illuminating the darkness. ❤️
When I heard you were going to Paris again, I said, “Oh no!” But how could you not go, was also my thought. Good for you! ... I also hold superstitions in my heart and I have no idea what precipitated them. As a young child, I was far braver than I am today as an adult.
Love this post. I have to comment on going back to Paris you talk about. Our family can relate to that in a way. With us it wasn't a case of visiting anywhere it was more the time of year. That was the time leading up to Christmas Eve to new years last year. Going back to 2021 that was when my daughter got quite sick and issues got worse. In 2022 as those days approached I admit i had a hard time enjoying that time because of the memories and being on alert in case history repeated itself again. Thankfully it didn't. Once we got through those days I was able to breathe easier. Your prompt on superstitions is interesting. I didn't have much of it except when i was playing baseball. I would have to do things the same way before every game. My parents never really knew or understood it.