Paraskevidekatriaphobia

So is it Paraskevidekatriaphobia or triskaidekaphobia?

Fear of the number 13 has been traced back to medieval times, although triskaidekaphobia is a word only in existence since the early 1900’s. Some say it is because there were thirteen at the last supper.

It is also linked to Norse mythology where the god Odin invited eleven of his buddies to a brouhaha at his condo in Valhalla (probably connected with football or a poker game, but no one at my source seemed to want to say. I don't know a lot about Norse mythology, but it sounds to me as though a keg were involved). Loki, the god of evil and turmoil, never got his invitation and crashed the party. This made thirteen and the dinner and snacks were only enough for twelve. The god, Balder, always the hero and therefore beloved by all (and who looked surprisingly like Harrison Ford in Raiders of the Lost Arc) decided to toss the intruder out. I mean, who wants to share their pickled herring? So Balder and Loki got into a brawl with fists flying and crashing chairs over each other’s heads, but Loki didn’t fight fair. He could have smacked a bottle over Balder’s head, like any decent brawler, but noooo. Loki shot Balder with a mistletoe-tipped arrow, felling him like a moth with wings aflame. I hate those danged mistletoe-tipped arrows. No good ever comes of them. And don’t give me the rhetoric about mistletoe-tipped arrows don’t kill people. People kill people. These were Norse gods, for crying out loud. It was the arrow, okay?

So, here in the U.S., we have a general fear of the number thirteen. It is part of being a good citizen. We go so far as to skip the thirteenth floor of high-rise buildings. There is the eleventh, twelfth, and fourteenth floors but no thirteenth. Maybe it is just me, but when I step onto a high-rise elevator and notice no “13” button, I always feel secure, like nothing could possibly harm me.

But then enters Friday. Not content with our triskaidekaphobia, we decided to throw in a fear of Friday. At first I couldn’t imagine fearing Friday. After all, at 5pm it is the beginning of the weekend and how could anyone have a problem with that. But then I remember the stock market crash in 1929, beginning the big depression. F-R-I-D-A-Y. Also, “Black Friday” (the day after Thanksgiving) strikes terror in my heart since reports of throngs of shoppers trampling security guards to death so they can snatch one of five items at a super great price hit the papers. So, yes, Friday can be pretty scary.

Hence the relatively new term, Paraskevidekatriaphobia, the fear of Friday the 13th.

Seriously, don’t try to do anything new on a Friday the 13th, like start a journey or have a baby. Postpone it until the 14th, please. In my early 20's I got laid-off in the afternoon of Friday the 13^th, but it only lasted through the weekend. By Monday morning they wanted me to get back to work at my regular time. Yeah, don’t ask. I don’t know.

To avoid making this a completely dire blog, I’ve decided to add some hope. For some people, Friday the 13th is really good luck. My mother was 13 on Friday the 13th and she has had some fabulous luck. I mean, she had me, didn’t she? Right?

Tap, tap tap.

Right?