Does luck exist if you don't know about the concept of luck? I wondered this after finding a four-leaf clover in a clear field at a park near the house. We'd made it a family outing so the kids could play. It was mid-Spring, when the grass sprigs return but are short enough to show off the clover patches. I spent an embarrassing amount of time scanning the ground, looking for luck. Curious about my stance, the youngest wandered over and asked what I was doing. "Looking for a clover with four hearts," I said. "Why?" "Well, for good luck." It struck me as the words flowed out that I perpetuated this understanding, this flora of superstition. I was taught this concept of finding "luck" by someone like me, most likely when I was his age. And so it goes on, generations of sharing luck with the ones you love. As I held the four-leaf clover and gave it to the little outstretched hands, his eyes lighting up at being gifted something even so small, I ruffled his hair and asked, "Want to look for more?"
