I have always taken note of and pondered coincidences. I am not superstitious, but coincidences make me think that our lives are mysteriously, and I like to think, intelligently and deliberately, woven together by a creative force who sometimes has a sense of humor.
Several weeks ago my father on his way home from lunch stopped at the local nursery and to my mother’s chagrin, dropped thousands of dollars on fountains, garden furniture, and the like, to enhance the view from his Man Cave. Momentum overtook him and he also made some purchases for inside the cave itself, including many antique license plates to hang from the rafters, old golf clubs and putters, and an ancient Pepsi machine.
A couple of days ago my mother noticed that there was a little metal identification tag on the back of the machine that said “Bloomington, IL.” My father grew up in the town of Bloomington, IL. Then, she noticed the inscription of initials “WTH” My father’s initials are “WLH.” If you took out his middle initial and replaced it with his first last name before he took on his adopted father’s last name, his initials would be “WTH.” Whoa!