In the third grade, a classmate let me in on a secret of the universe. We were in PE, on the field outside the complex of buildings that made up our school. I was looking up at the sky, at a rainbow. I nudged the girl standing next to me and told her to look at it. She looked, then turned to me and said:

“When there’s a rainbow in the sky it means someone died.”

“No,” I replied, in a skeptical voice, wondering how you could possibly tie a rainbow to a death.

“Yeah, it does. Really, my auntie told me.”

I can’t actually remember if it was her aunt, uncle, mother, cousin, or older brother. But one thing you should know about life in the islands is that when you’re a kid, older relatives’ word is law, and you can use that to convince your peers of something you’re trying to push on them, be it true or not. Of course, not being a gullible little girl (something which has stayed with me), I didn’t pay much heed.

The summer after fourth grade, I moved to another island and left my old friends, classmates, school, and life behind.

Flash forward seven years, to October 1st, the Independence Day of my new (true, as my roots were here) home. The junior class - my class - being very forward fundraising-wise, had a tent in the midst of the celebrations at the grounds under the bridge. My cousin and I manned the cash register for the first shift, which turned out to be rather fun. When the time for the second shift came, we didn’t want to give it up, but the second shift wanted their turn (I suppose we weren’t the only ones who realized how fun it was). So we relinquished the register and went forth to wander amongst the other booths.

Soon enough the official program started, and everyone it was possible to was made to rise for the national anthem. I was perhaps a couple hundred yards from where the flag was being raised, but I could see it well. I hummed a bit, sang a bit, but mostly kept quiet and watched the flag. But, not being an essential part of the ceremonies and therefore not having to keep up appearances, I let my eyes wander. And there, in the sky, was a rainbow. I can’t remember if it was particularly striking, but I’ve always liked them. And then I remembered what my classmate had told me about rainbows eight years ago. I remembered the field and the big sky. Then I thought about how silly superstition was, and like that little girl in PE class, paid no heed to the thought. For that’s all it was – a thought.

When I got home later, my dad asked me if I’d heard the news. I hadn’t.

“You didn’t see all the commotion during the national anthem?”

“No,” I replied. I had been too far away to really see anything in that area but the flag being raised high.

“A guy had too much to drink, and fell out of his boat during the national anthem.”

People who owned boats had brought them to watch the festivities. It was easier than finding parking and it gave you a front-row seat to the boat races.

“Really?” I said. “Is he okay?”

“No,” my dad replied. “The other people in the boat had too much to drink too, and they thought it would be a good idea to reverse the boat to get him.”

Apparently, what had happened was the guy fell out of the back of the boat, and his buddies decided to reverse it to fish him out. Of course, the motor blades are in the back of the boat too… You see where I’m going. I think I remember my dad saying something about how they cut his head clean off, but I’m sure he was exaggerating.

One question you’re probably asking is: Do I believe in superstition after that? My answer: Nope, not at all. But truth is stranger than fiction, folks. By far.