Wednesday, May 20, 2009

The True Story of Wishbone




This post has nothing to do with woodworking, it is the follow up to a prior promise of an explanation for the wishbone reference in an earlier post.



First the background.


About six or seven years ago, pardon me, but I'm absolutely horrible with dates and time, my daughter remarried. I already had one granddaughter, Kaitlin, from her first marriage. She is almost thirteen now, for reference.


About five years ago, on Christmas day, Kaitlin and I partook in a family tradition. A tradition of several years, anyway. As per tradition the wishbone from the Thanksgiving turkey is saved to dry out for that quick snap after Christmas dinner. I made my wish and she made hers. Now in my own defense, let me say that I'm not at all superstitious, but I do believe in two opportunities for wishes. Wishbones and falling stars. And this wishbone snap was won by myself. When she asked 'what did you wish for', I told her that it was bad luck to tell your wishes, and that she would just have to wait to find out. One other thing which might be be noted now, is that I do believe that, in order for any of these wishes to come true, they must not be in the least bit selfish. You must always wish for the best for someone else, no winning lottery tickets or Porsches.


Late in January next year.


My wife and daughter, Wendi, work together for the same hospital, seperated by two floors. I can't remember now whether I'd picked her up from work, or whether it was after she'd gotten home, but my wife, Kathy, informed me rather nonchalantly, That Wendi was preggers. If you are asleep by now, wake up, because now it gets interesting. Without much pause, I picked up the cell phone and called Kaitlin and asked her if she remembered the Christmas last year wishbone. She said she did, and I gloated that wishbone wishes DID come true, and I had gotten mine. That I'd wished for a grandson. She asked why I'd wished for THAT, and I told her: "So I would have someone to go fishing with. She told me, "Papa, I'll go fishing with you anytime!"


Needless to say there was much disbelief on everone elses' part, but that was EXACTLY what I'd wished for. When Wendi poo-pooed it, all I could say was wait till a little later, and when it's a boy, maybe you'll have a little more faith in your old man. And remember too, it was me who told you Kaitlin was going to be a girl early on. (I dreamed it.) After the ultrasound, everyone changed their tune.


That's him, Richard Jonathon, RJ for short, Wishbone as I call him, at the top. He's named after his Dad and I.


Needless to say when Christmas wishbones are snapped now, there are a lot of requests and warnings. The other side note to this story is that when Wishbone is old enough to ask that 'where did I come from question', everyone was told just to have him call his papa. I'll explain it.


Turkeys.



Now for the tease for the next post, for my one and only follower:

I have something I think you'll be VERY interested in. It involves a first edition (I think), of a seventeeth century piece of what I believe is English literature(?) If seventeeth century is 1649, I'll be alright.

I'll have to ask you to do some research and some splainin' because I can't make head nor tails of it, and I've not been able to find much information about it on the web. It is of a religious nature, and ought to be right up your PHD alley.

Does Thomas Shepard ring any bells?

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