Did I actually write one short week ago, "I can't wait for that dire emergency everyone keeps promising that will make me glad I have a cell phone. Sort of like the mixed blessing when years of insurance premiums pay off."? What was I thinking? I certainly didn't have to wait long.

Yesterday my husband received a call from my son's cell phone, reporting his first car accident. Nobody was hurt, except his vehicle, and its wounds are not fatal.

I share the widely-held superstitious belief that verbalizing good fortune potentially negates it and stating something never happens makes the event immediately move to the front of the roster. Growing up, I said things like, "I just told Jenny yesterday I never fall asleep chewing gum," as my mother applied ice, rubbing alcohol and a stiff comb to my matted hair.

My mother assured me that you have no reason to recollect the majority of pronouncements that don't come to pass. Small comfort, since she also regularly said, "Knock on wood," warding off bad karma by rapping the table. My dad knuckled his head.

This ritualistic gesture reminds us we can't control every aspect of our lives, but we can hope. My uncle was a believer in the power of positive thinking, passing me his books by Norman Vincent Peale and Napoleon Hill. I hated disappointing him, but I just couldn't chant positive messages in the morning, particularly before coffee.

It seemed to work for him. He told wonderful stories of a lucky life. When relocating to Los Angeles, he drove into the city on an unusually blustery day. The "Welcome to L.A." sign collapsed right before his car passed by.

"Just think," he said. "It would have crushed me if I had been a few seconds later."

I observed that it could just as easily be viewed as an ominous sign, that L.A. was trying to tell him something about his welcome status.

Another story he favored occurred at the beginning of his military service. An officer ordered them to line up boarding a train. Cold and tired, soldiers elbowed each other for a favorable position. My uncle decided he wasn't in a big hurry, taking his place in the rear. The next order was that the end of the line would enter first.

Although I hate to admit it, my life has always been lucky. Tragedy threatens but harmlessly retreats through no effort of my own. More often than not, I end up at the front of the line.

Last night's accident is an excellent example. Beyond no one being hurt, the car my son hit was driven by a calm woman who treated him kindly. In addition, I was told that our insurance policy would keep its accident-free discount; apparently, we have gone so long without a mishap, this one is a gimme. Worse things could happen. But won't. Knock on wood.