Viewing a black cat crossing the street, witnessing a full moon on Friday the 13th, and knocking on wood to prevent jinxing are just a few “bad luck” scenarios that have been passed down to us throughout generations. However, in my family bad luck is known as the “curse of threes.”
What’s this curse?
Well, in the McNeal family, the curse starts with one large, unlucky event followed by two smaller bouts of bad luck.
The curse does not attach onto only to one person, but the entire family and can happen at a moment’s notice.
Case in point: my recent car accident.
I have never been in a car accident before, but as fate had it, my beautiful Ford Focus was a crumpled mess in a matter of seconds. (Luckily, I wasn’t hurt and the person at fault had insurance.)
So add that event, plus my washer breaking down and misplacing my phone for a day and you’ve got the curse of the three’s.
There have been more curses throughout my life: breaking my arm right before the Adel Sweet Corn Festival parade, having my appendix removed the week after I started a new job, and throwing up on my third grade teacher the day of conferences.
All stories have made great conversation starters but have mostly been an inconvenience and, in my opinion, are unlucky.
Being constantly unlucky is quite tiresome, but each time an event happens I count my blessings because things could be worse. Like this adage states, “All of us have bad luck and good luck. The man who persists through the bad luck– who keeps right on going – is the man who is there when the good luck comes – and is ready to receive it.” - Robert Collier.
Hmm, maybe good luck is on my way.