Due August 4, 2004
My belief in superstitions started at a very young age. I was raised in an Irish/Catholic household. In face both sets of Grandparents come through Ellis Island. I never knew my Mom’s side but every Sunday was spent at my Dad’s parents with the whole family. My Papa could speak no English and my Nana had a heavy Brogue. I had to interpret for my friends. She would tell me stories about Leprechauns, Fairies, and Banshees… Right after we all said the Rosary with Bishop Sheen on the radio.
I remember one day I was sweeping the kitchen and was about to sweep the dirt out the back door. The next thin I knew Nana had the broom and was swatting me with it! It seems you NEVER sweep dirt out because you would sweep out all your good luck with it! I still pick it up with my dustpan. Heaven forbid a bird flew into the house! Nana would have moved out to the yard and sold the house. It meant very bad luck would come to the inhabitants or someone would die. We always tossed salt over our left shoulder with our right hand whenever we spilled it. Papa was waked in the house for 3 days when he passed on. Someone was always in the room with him. The food kept coming, my aunt kept playing the squeezebox, sleeping only when she had to, and the stories went on and on. It was a very good childhood. One I will hold dear to my heart forever.
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