Art Heals: Tuesday

In my ongoing campaign to keep the days of the week straight in my head during the amorphous time blob that is the virus week, I decided to research Tuesday.  Now, for me, Tuesday is the lost sibling—not the firstborn (Sunday or Monday, take your pick) not the middle child (Wednesday), not the last child to stay at home before they all go off to school (Thursday) and certainly not the happy twins, Friday and Saturday, off to the type of fun that usually involves adult beverages.

Tuesday, in many cultures, and in astrology, is associated with the planet Mars, and yes, Mars is that god of war.  In case you are not clear on what this means, take note that in the Thai solar calendar, (which I happen to consult daily, of course) the word Tuesday means "Ashes of the Dead." Wait, you say.  You grew up thinking Tuesday’s child was full of grace, didn’t you?  And to all of you born on a Tuesday, I’m sure you are all lovely.  But that line, from an old English nursery rhyme from 1838, was meant as a protective fortune-telling device, as were the other lines of the poem.  Not an identity card.

In Greek and Spanish cultures, Tuesday is considered unlucky (probably harking back to that association with war).

The superstition holds, "On Tuesday, don’t get married, embark on a journey, or move away.” ('En martes, ni te cases, ni te embarques, ni de tu casa te apartes'.) In Islamic culture, Tuesday often becomes the middle of the week, (many Muslim countries designate Friday and Saturday as the weekend), yet another hump to be climbed over.  (On the bright side, due to Biblical references, in Judaism Tuesday can be considered a particularly lucky day.)

At any rate, Tuesday is not my favorite.  Having gotten through Monday, when I have to leave behind all thoughts of the merry abandon of the previous weekend (you know, longer sleep, longer walks, more adult beverages) I am faced with Tuesday.  The only memories I have are of Monday (see above).  Work has not abated, chores have not abated, virus news has not abated, even the federal government hands down the federal budget on a Tuesday.  And what do I have to look forward to?  Wednesday, whose lumps and bumps jostle and jolt my bones on the long trek to the precious weekend.

I just looked it up.  It seems I was born on a Tuesday.  I take it all back.

I offer neon art from Los Angeles.  Looks like a Tuesday to me.  Art Heals.