Singing at the Dinner Table
By Chandler Lamm
Photo from Kate Broadnax
I swear I didn’t jump to conclusions. I genuinely tried to convince myself that the string of bad luck that seemed so intertwined with my life was pure coincidence. “It’s just one of those days” became a mantra of mine as I assured myself that the universe was in fact not conspiring against me. I mean, my computer breaking the week of finals is random, right?
A quick Google search confirmed I was wrong.
Clicking on the top result that appeared under “list of ways to get bad luck,” my fears came to fruition. I was cursed.
Singing at the dinner table??? As I read down the list of superstitions, I knew this was something I was certainly guilty of. How could something so good-natured result in bad luck? I dove down a research rabbit-hole, and sure enough, it was true. In North Carolina specifically, singing at the dinner table is believed to be an open invite for evil intentions and bad luck to welcome themselves into your life.
Reflecting on the past two years, I mentally bullet-pointed hardships that I’d faced. My mom’s cancer diagnosis marked the beginning of a downward spiral. The news crushed me, and being away from home while my whole family was there to support her hurt even more. The stress took a toll on my grades. Academic performance, once so important to me, paled in comparison to the well-being of a loved one, and frequent road trips back to my hometown often cut into my study time.
In the year that followed, the curse seemed unrelenting. I was forced to end a five year relationship, losing a person I thought I knew and had talked to every day of my life since middle school. My own health problems appeared – kidney problems, frequent fainting, and an onslaught of doctor’s appointments were common in my life. I felt like so many pieces of myself had been shattered and ripped away.
Yes, there was a lot of bad. However, as I sat and thought about all the evil I had supposedly welcomed into my life through singing at the table, I recognized all the good that the same actions had brought me.
As my mom’s birthday rolled around, her recovery process made me incredibly thankful for the opportunity to sing “Happy Birthday” to her at the dinner table for years to come. I reignited my academic drive through study sessions at my best friend’s apartment, snacking at the island while we took turns playing our favorite songs. The end of a romantic relationship pushed me to grow my platonic ones, leading to more time to spend at my own dinner table in my first ever house, surrounded by my best friends, blasting music while we cooked and ate meals together in a home that we shared. Even singing to myself as I ate, researching all of the incredible doctors available to help figure out my own health issues.
From singing Christmas carols at Christmas Eve dinner to sitting around the table and humming along as I’m getting ready for a night out with my friends, I find joy in my seat at the table. Rather than cursing myself, I have surrounded myself with love.
So I’m going to keep singing at the dinner table, because every “curse” that comes with it is more than overshadowed by the winning hands I’ve been dealt.
