September 26, 2026

I love the number 123, let’s just start there.

When I was challenged to compose a monthly blog as well as a monthly newsletter when michaelaba.com first came out, I voiced deep reservations.  My self-identity was as a writer of complete fiction, with perhaps random exceptions making cameo appearances here and there.  (The non-fiction collection “These Stories Are True” had yet to be written.)   The question “Why would anyone need to know something about me on a monthly basis?” produced no satisfactory answer.  I’ve never tried my hand at writing a diary, even for my own private amusement, so why start revealing and uncovering personal thoughts and observations now?

Yet, at the same time, I’m not one to back down from a challenge.  And these blogs together with the monthly emails have probably been the most widely-read aspect of my entire website.  They’ve certainly provoked the most feedback.

And I did not miss a single month.  Not even when the original website was shut down for a significant amount of time while my brothers Tom and Jeff helped me get this much more modern version off the ground.  Even to this day, I have a suspicion that one missed month would lead to two, three, maybe twelve…  Inertia has always played a strange role in my life.  I’m really good at doing absolutely nothing for days on end.  I have to force myself into being productive, no matter the task.  But once I get going, a lot can get accomplished.

Well, this blog happens to be the 123rd one.  This means I’ve been doing this for ten years and three months.  And, as stated above, the number 123 has always been meaningful to me, as well as, I believe, every member of my immediate family.

So let me try to explain why.

Unlike other mystical movements and numerology assertions, we can be damned certain where the origin of our love of the number 123 came from.  The house we all grew up in was located in Burlington, Vermont, at 123 Loaldo Drive.

Might be hard to imagine a family of seven children living in such a tiny dwelling, but I can assure you - from birth to the end of high school, this little place housed us all.  (Sure - there was an additional section built into the backyard that can’t be seen here, and the mostly-finished basement provided a bedroom to me in my later teenage years, but still…)

Both our parents spent their final days there.  When we were debating whether or not to sell ten years ago, I believe someone noticed either the clock striking 1:23 or some car driving by with those numbers in order on their plate - it’s been so long I can no longer be sure - but such coincidences heartened us greatly.  As if our parents were waving encouragingly to us from far away, assuring us things were going to be OK.

There was something about the number 123 that struck a chord in all of us, even after our house was sold.  Kind of like a beacon of positivity.  Logic really can’t explain the phenomenon, obviously.  But, for example, when things looked dire for Joe Biden to defeat his orange rival back in 2020, the family was on a group chat, growing increasingly in despair.  My young niece finally decided she needed some sleep, but she made sure to return and bring us the encouraging news that she happened to notice it was 1:23am at that moment.  A small sliver of inexplicable hope returned to all of us.  And sure enough, about a half day later the result we were praying for arrived.

(Of course, the losing president has gone on to betray us, our country and the world once again, but that may be fodder for a later blog…)

As recent as one month ago, my other niece Lindsay got married in Central Park.  At one point during the lunchtime reception she and her new husband Matt graced the 15 of us gathered around the New York City restaurant they’d chosen with a lovely first dance.  And immediately after they finished to an enthused reaction from the impressed wedding guests, I happened to glance at my watch.

The time was 1:23.

How could any of us take this omen as anything other than our parents waving encouragingly and saying hi?  Or at least, that’s how I chose to take it.  Such a wonderful thought, even if only half-believed, harms no one and makes our days brighter.

So this is my 123rd blog.  I’m going to allow myself a moment to visualize my mother and father smiling down at me right now, amazed and perhaps a little surprised at my persistence.  I’m certainly not a practicing Catholic but those old teachings don’t simply vanish.  I was an altar boy for many of those 123 Loaldo Drive years, after all…

Another 123 would mean the passing of ten more years…  I will certainly require a few positive omens here and there to keep writing moving forward, that’s for sure…

Let’s see what happens.