Not long ago, our ringmaster invited us bloggers to write about a coincidence. I didn’t respond at the time.
I had written before about coincidences. They seem to pop up so often in my life that I believe they must be more than coincidences. Providential, if that is an accurate word for it.
I should have talked to the late psychoanalyst Carl Jung —another writing challenge I didn’t accept—who probed into the subject and thought that these strange occurrences were universally experienced by homo sapiens. Synchronicities , he dubbed them. He might have given me so sort of closure on the matter.
But Wednesday morning, it happened again.
As usual I was rambling on while my wife patiently listened. About something in the news, the ill-fated Jordanian pilot whom Isis had held hostage before brutally murdering. I was going on about how some nations, including our own, refuse to give in to extortion. When all of a sudden I had one of those matutinal brain cramps. I couldn’t think of the word for what kidnappers demand to release a hostage.
I kicked it around for a few seconds, then let the whole megillah go.
Later, I poured another cup of Folgers and went toe to toe with the Trib crossword.
13 across: Big Island coffee region? I knew it immediately. “Kona”. We brought some back from Hawaii several years ago.
1 down: With hands on hips? Ah, a word you don’t often hear these days. “akimbo”.
10-down:…….What!…….Redeemed from captivity? There it was. Released from its own captivity in my gray matter: “ransomed”.