he good news is that the republic bids fair to survive eight years of left-handed leadership. Not that we had any choice; all of the major candidates seeking the presidency in the 1990s (Clinton, Perot, Bush Sr., and Dole) were left-handed, and thus, odd ducks.
The even better news is that the Republican contender John McCain is painfully superstitious. (He is also left-handed, a shortcoming I will ignore for the duration of this article.) Journalists traveling with McCain report that he harbors a lucky compass, a lucky feather, a lucky penny and, sometimes, a lucky rock. An aide carries his lucky pen - a Zebra Jimnie Gel Rollerball (medium, blue) - at all times. For added luck, he sometimes wears his magical L.L. Bean rubber-soled dress shoes.
On the day of the South Carolina primary, according to the Washington Post, McCain ate his lucky food (barbecue) and imported his lucky friend to stand by him. McCain even invoked the Spring Hill Lizard, a talismanic wiggling of an aide's right pinkie finger that once helped Texas A & M prevail over Nebraska in a football game. ''We use it only if we're at Def Con One, '' said his political director, referring to the highest stage of national security alert. I hope the Spring Hill Lizard scares Vladimir Putin as much as it scares me.
There are cynics who will note that, his precautionary measures notwithstanding, John McCain lost the South Carolina primary. But there could be a thousand reasons for that. It's not clear that he saw his lucky movie that afternoon. Perhaps, unbeknownst to him, a member of his retinue tossed a hat on a bed; I go berserk when my kids do that. Maybe George W. Bush's lucky red-white-and-blue tie-shirt-suit combination packed more juju than McCain's sacred Hopi feather that day.
McCain says his superstitions are an aviator's thing. And they've stood him in good stead: he's survived at least two airplane crashes. Maybe it's a geographic thing; his home state of Arizona has a small mountain range called The Superstitions. He doesn't have to explain it to me. Funky superstitions? Just more reasons to love John McCain, I say.
Make no mistake: The world is an extremely dangerous and hostile place. Religion offers some succor. The problem with most religions is that they concern themselves with the fate of my soul, not the fate of whatever USAirways flight I happen to be riding at the moment. Would I leave for the airport without observing the Russian custom of sitting quietly before a trip? Would I board an airplane without my St. Christopher's totem? Are you nuts?
A couple of weeks ago, I guest-taught a writing class in Cambridge. The students and I had gathered around a table. When the 12th and last writer arrived, I sprang up from my chair. The assembled company was baffled by my refusal to sit at a table of 13, but they good-naturedly agreed to take turns standing. The 13-at-a-table curse dates back to the Last Supper. If Peter or Paul had offered to take turns standing up 2000 years ago, Jesus Christ might have lived well past the age of 33.
What else? I never open an umbrella indoors, and yes, I throw spilled salt over my (left) shoulder. Of course, I knock on wood - an old Druid thing - to avoid tempting fate. I would never give someone a knife as a gift (cuts the friendship) or accept a pet for free - that's very bad luck.
You must say ''bread and butter'' if you and a loved one pass on either side of an object that you can't hold hands over (preserves the union) and do not, repeat not, kiss a loved one on the forehead. Don't ask why, just take my word for it.
Some superstitions are just plain silly. In Iceland, for instance, they believe that if someone drops a knife while cleaning fish, and the knife points to the sea, that presages good fishing. If the knife points toward land, the fish won't be filling the nets.
Obviously, this kind of old-world folkway is ridiculously primitive. Everyone knows that if you drop a knife, it means you will soon be receiving a male guest. If you don't believe me, just ask John McCain.
Alex Beam's e-dress is beam@globe.com
