Tuesday, September 19, 2006

The Woman Who Was Tuesday

I've always like Tuesday, I was born on a Tuesday, and growing up, my guitar lessons (classical) were always on a Tuesday. I have often thought of sevens as yellow and Tuesdays, this abberation of the mind, I've recently discovered, is called synesthesia, I also think of 4s as blue, etc. My daughter has this as well, but she has more, she thinks six and eight don't get along, one number is kind, another patient (I can't remember which), and many of the numbers have not only colors, but personalities.

Anyway, about being born on a Tuesday. Let's see. I was born in a car, in a parking lot of a hospital, at about 7 in the morning, on the seventh of the month, when the weather was cold, my dad grabbed a night shift nurse who was leaving for the day (punched out, too, no less) who had worked all night and wasn't a labor and delivery nurse, who told my mom she would make it into the hospital, and the immediately announced, "It's a boy!"

Well, she was a little flustered by her sudden off-duty employment.

After correcting herself and assuring my dad that I was, after all, another girl, they declared the whole scene unsanitary and put my mother and me in solitary confinement....ah, isolation.

Oh. The car was a 1959 Ford Custom. Green.


  1. Interesting...

    Both The Hobbit and the first Harry Potter book begin on a Tuesday. GKC has a short story called "A Picture of Tuesday" which can be found in CW14 - there are certain hints in it which lay symbolic groundwork for his Thursday book. By back-computation according to "Sunday = the day of rest", Tuesday is the day of the division of the waters (hence the design of Gogol's costume).

    And there is at least one place I have seen (now I cannot recall where) that the Miracle of Cana was said to be "on the third day" - which would have been a Tuesday by Hebrew calculation.

  2. I forgot to say that thing about mixing senses is amazing. It reminds me of my pipe organ where I wired a separate Christmas light to each of two chromatic octaves (no pun intended) - just about the most amazing thing you'd ever want to experience - esp. something like the toccata of Widor's 5th symphony! (Yes, I wish I still had it... or another, preferably much larger!)

    But also the tying of abstracts to the numbers was done by the ancient Pythagoreans (and others) - it's hard to avoid symbolism when the numbers themselves are symbols. Also remember that the full Greek alphabet were number-signs. (I'll post on that on my own blogg one of these days.) We ought not pay too much attention, or put too much stress on such numerology, but as poetic word-painting it is hard not to use such things, whether it be puns or something more powerful.


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