Eight-Eighteen

Well, you probably know that it is August 18th. The numerical equivalent of that, 818, is also our house number. And, if you're really *with it,* you realize that 8/18 appears twice during the day, at 8:18 am, and pm.

The first year we lived in this house, 16 years ago, my middle-schoolers noticed that the time came up on the VCR, 8:18, and made up a chant, "eight-eighteen [the time] ON eight-eighteen [the date] AT eight-eighteen [our house]." And, if you have children, you know how absolutely irritating any kind of chant can be. I was really, really glad when *that* day was over.

As the years went by, they made it a game--who would notice and let somebody else know?

As the children grew up and left home, they still made it a point to call me and their Dad, and each other. Cellphones are really good for this, because you only have one minute to make sure everybody has gotten a turn to play. And, if you happen to forget it in the morning, you still have the p.m. to play.

I was gone this morning, getting a tire fixed from a nail we picked up on vacation somewhere. Later I heard that Joe Hardy called three of his siblings. I was ready for the p.m. round--I got three of my kids called. Two others had to be at 8:19, but, at least I tried.

All of this isn't really of any importance at all, of course, unless you belong to our family. The reason I share it is to make a point about Family Culture--those things that are a part of Who We Are. And, how some of those things happen as a result of a fluke, never "planned" at all. I just think it is so cool that we are at 16 years and running. I wonder if the game will go on if we move to another house? Can't you just see my kids, in their 50's, calling each other up?

We are so cool.

Or, maybe just weird.