Thursday the Eleventh

We all have our favorite numbers and probably for no good reason. But we’re talking here about something beyond the rational mind. My number is eleven. I have no idea why.

As for days of the week it’s no contest. Thursday has long been my favorite not only because it precedes Friday but more for its sound which is juicy to my ears. Maybe because it is a counterpoint to its cousin, Thirsty.

I have a fantasy that if Trump gets reelected, he will abolish Thursday and rename it Trumpday since truth no longer shall prevail. He might as well eliminate number eleven and decree that twelve follows ten until further notice. His choir will defend the move as an expression of freedom. 

Eleven is an echo of my name, Levine, a version of Levin as if life rhymes. I prefer a slant rhyme, myself which is why I became Levine.

Consider its fellow days of the week, Sunday and Monday, who remain in celestial dialog for perpetuity; I don’t wish to interrupt them. Tuesday has some lineage with a god of war and Wednesday carries that silent letter not to be trusted nor is Friday, which sounds like a recipe for chicken fricassee, not one of my favorites. Thursday, with Thor (thunder) comes on to announce itself as a new day dawning. It was Peggy's day to share her poems and herself.

Eleven is a couple of stilts, the first number beyond our fingers and it is the year before the War of 1812 which became a question put to my friend Roger when seeking his citizenship as to who won that conflict. When he answered I don’t know, the interrogator replied, That’s correct, nobody knows. Like most wars nobody ever wins. Roger was a visionary.

Unlike all other numbers (except seven) eleven also rhymes with heaven. Come to think of it eight ain’t bad either since it is infinity having just gotten upright. And how did that feel having witnessed eternity, I asked. She replied, I’ll have to get back to you on that. All of which proves my point. Just what is my point? Something to do with imagination and the possibility of dread. 

This is my lunatic way of amusing myself with the philharmonic sounds of floating notes and numbers since I never learned how to play the bassoon in the marching band to oblivion.