By the Number

Math, a dear friend of mine who interestingly happens to be a math teacher, says, is life. I don't doubt it. When the numbers in the checkbook (does anyone use one of those anymore?) don't add up, it's a problem. But this is more about numbers than full on mathematics (does anyone use the complete word anymore?). 

A twice recurrent number in my life is 1104. When you pronounce it eleven-oh-four it rolls nicely off the tongue. It was the address of the house me Pops grew up in (on Putnam Street in Detroit) and the number of me son's scout troop. That is at least kind of serendipitous, isn't it?

Me Uncle John whom I call Zeke loved the old house. So did me Pops, as I'm quite sure did the rest of their siblings. Zeke used to say if he had the money he'd rebuilt it precisely to spec. 

Me Grandparents moved out of it in 1965. I remember being there as a small boy. As the second oldest grandchild there likely aren't many of us on my tier of the family that were in it. The place was huge. I recall being in the back yard playing with the dog they had at the time (Moochie? Does that sound like the dog's name?), and toddling around the basement with me Pops and his brothers as they shot pool. 

Then me son Frank ends up making Eagle Scout through Boy Scout Troop 1104. I don't know if Pops realized that, but I have to imagine he did. Some numbers just stick with us and I have the distinct impression 1104 did with him. 

There's other numbers which mean a lot to me but that's the only one which appears prominently in my life two times. I may play the lottery with it today. Third time's a charm?