In Droves

I think many if not most of us have remarked at times how things seem to happen in bunches. The old saw death comes in threes comes to mind. The truth is I find that idea generally accurate.

I haven't needed a certain particular reversing switch in about eight or ten weeks. Today I need three. There's a part called a gear shaft which comes out of the motor of an Electric Eel Model C. We will literally go months, maybe as long as a half a year, without needing any and then bam - we need four.

Why is that? An friend of mine who is a math teacher once explained to me that statistics actually prove (or at least strongly indicate) that a given thing or things will as a matter of course happen in bunches. The trouble is we tend to think, or want to believe anyway, that even what would be considered random events (those shafts wearing out for example) happen in a nice, linear timeline. A, then B, then C and D and so forth, all nicely spaced. As we typically replace 12 in a year's time we should replace one of them a month, we expect, rather than two in January, none in February or March, four in April and so on.

Yet things don't happen that way. Or I suppose more accurately things over which we have no control happen over an evenly spaced time. They will happen as they happen, and statistically that means in droves. Usually: there will be singular events of course. Yet that too is covered by statistical theory. Sometimes things just happen and that's that.

Another teacher friend of mine is fond of saying math is life. I think she's right. And I think that even more each time I need three reverse switches all at once.

Lucky 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 full 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 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 also remember it. It was huge. I recall being in the back yard playing with the dog they had at the time, and being in 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?