My husband’s family has a “number.”    It’s theirs.   They claim it like they own it.    They will tell me, “Heather, it’s a Bird thing.”   It just IS.   It’s the favorite for all of them.   I believe it started way back when my husband was little and his dad’s favorite number was 7.     He told Ken, “Kenny, you have to EARN the number 7.”    And so Ken worked hard to earn the right to wear the number 7 on his little league jersey.    Throughout his sporting life Ken was number 7.

My sister in laws wore the number 7.  My nephews wear the number 7.

So, when Ricky was asked which number he wanted for his baseball jersey, I whispered, “number 7,” to him.     And then I cringed a little when I heard him ask for, “number 11.”     I glanced back at Ken and he said, “it’s okay, it’s good to have your own number.”     However, I’m pretty sure Ken had a proud moment when Ricky very happily returned with this jersey:

Turns out, someone else asked for number 11 first.    Ken still claims it’s no big deal, but I know his family would be proud ….. after all his sister got married on 7/7/2007 for gosh sakes!

And so, the tradition continues, for now, anyway.



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