Look at your calendar. It’s the 11th day of the 11th month of the 11th year of the millennium.
For Gilda and me it couldn’t be a more auspicious day for, you see, 11 is our lucky number, and by extension so is 11:11 and 11:11:11. It began our first night of marriage in our first apartment in Seymour, Conn., nearly 39 years ago. As we cuddled in bed, we glanced at one of our wedding presents, a digital alarm clock, the type back then that flipped over numbers in the way airport terminals would display flight information. The clock had been a gift from one of my father’s friends from Israel. The clock read 11:11.
Since then we’ve noticed how elevens have intersected our lives. I am 11 days older than Gilda. In 1984, we moved into our current house, 11 years after we married. The street address number is 11. Dan’s favorite NY Giants football player growing up, Phil Simms, wore number 11 on his uniform. It’s the number Dan has always chosen for his sports activities. Dan and Allison started dating 11 years ago. My mother’s birthday was November 11.
Today’s Veterans’ Day, a time to remember all who selflessly devoted their energies and sometimes their lives in defense of our freedoms and those of many oppressed people. Gilda and I won’t forget them, but we’ll also commemorate the special intersection of elevens with our lives together.