Andy Young: The twelfth, not the last

By Andy Young

It was curiosity that led me to conduct an imaginary survey earlier this fall. The one-question bogus poll’s query was: “What’s the first word that comes to mind when you think of December?”

The unsurprising results were, well, not surprising. Of the 794 fictitious respondents, 53.7 percent answered “Christmas,” “Hanukkah,” “Kwanzaa,” or “holidays.” An additional 42.8 percent responded with “cold,” “snow,” “ice,” or “skiing,” and another 3.4 percent said, “New Year’s Eve.”

The poll was somewhat skewed by one individual (0.125944584 percent of those participating) whose response was “surfing and intense heat.” Here’s a hint for future information-gatherers wishing to administer meaningful surveys that will yield useful findings: when conducting climate-related polls, don’t include any New Zealanders.

If I headed up December’s marketing department, I’d launch a serious rebranding. There’s far more to the year’s concluding month than just holidays and the onset of winter.

Once I got the go-ahead from December’s 12-member board of directors, the first thing I’d establish is that the calendar’s final month isn’t the year’s last one; it’s the twelfth one! The difference is as stark as the contrast between day and night, near and far, or good and evil. Being last is a downer. The last person in the chow line gets the dregs, if they get anything at all. The last people outside the arena or theatre get the crummiest seats at the concert, the movie, or the ballgame, assuming it’s not sold out by the time they get to the ticket window.

Being the last pick at the National Football League draft has become somewhat noteworthy, but other than that the only three times in history when being at the end of the line was a good thing were: In 1876, when the last available uniform for General Custer’s 7th cavalry regiment had been handed out; in 1912, when the Titanic’s final berth had gotten filled; and in 1978, when the Kool-Aid supply ran out in Jonestown, Guyana.

Being twelfth, on the other hand, is always significant. Don’t believe it? Why then are there twelve eggs in a dozen? Why do two twelve-hour periods make up a day? Why are there twelve inches in a foot, twelve people on a jury, and twelve signs of the zodiac?

The apostles Marvin, Orlando, Betty, and Sharon (yes, there were women apostles, but the misogynistic chroniclers of the day wrote them out of history) had wanted to be present at the last supper, but there was a reason only Andrew, Bartholomew, James the Greater, James the Lesser, John, Judas Iscariot, Jude, Matthew, Peter, Phillip, Simon and Thomas got invites: there were exactly one dozen tribes of Israel, which is why Jesus wanted twelve (and only twelve) guests to share His last meal with Him.

There’s a reason Shakespeare didn’t author a play called The 8th Night, and Hollywood never made movies called Ten Angry Men, Eleven O’Clock High, The Dirty Baker’s Dozen, Thirty-five Monkeys, or The Fifteen Chairs.

Even casual football fans know Tom Brady’s uniform number. But the quarterback who engineered six New England Patriot Super Bowl victories (and one for some forgettable squad with weird uniforms) isn’t the only number-12-wearing Hall of Fame quarterback to call signals for an NFL championship team. Joe Namath, Terry Bradshaw, Bob Griese, Roger Staubach, Ken Stabler and Aaron Rodgers all did it, too.

Is there something magic about the number twelve? It seems plausible, given that Henry Armstrong, the only man to ever hold three world boxing championships (featherweight, welterweight, and lightweight) simultaneously, was born on December 12, 1912.

And for those still unconvinced of twelve’s significance, well……try counting your ribs! <