Mothers are often credited with having eyes in the back of their heads. Maybe the same is true of skiers. On February 15, during the Olympic dual moguls race, Japan’s Ikuma Horishima lost his balance after flipping over the final hill. He recovered, but discovered he was skiing backwards. He kept his cool and crossed the finish line, facing the wrong direction!

In 1970, golfing legend Arnold Palmer played golf with the king of Saudi Arabia. After their game, the king wished to express his appreciation to the famous golfer, and asked what he could give him as a token of his gratitude. Palmer realized to refuse such an offer would be an insult to the king. So he replied, “If you wish, you can give me a golf club.”

I wasn’t as freaked-out as I thought I would be. Last month, I rode in a driverless car. The owner programed it and took his hands off the wheel. The car took off unassisted, turned corners by itself, stopped at traffic lights, dodged parked vehicles, and even stopped for pedestrians.

It sounded so simple. My daughter asked me to grab some oat milk at the store. There I stood, staring at the dairy case. Calling out to me were ninety-nine different types of milk. (Yes, I counted them). Just considering oat milk, there was full-fat, non-fat, and low-fat. Each type offered a sweetened and unsweetened variety, not to mention organic and non-organic. Twelve different varieties—

Imagine living in a town where the local paper reports crimes such as these: A bird was stuck in some wiring, which officers freed in twelve minutes. Police and fire department responded to a call about a dishwasher with smoke billowing from it. Turned out to be steam. A driver created an unsafe situation by driving without their headlights illuminated.

It began as a harmless discussion between my two oldest grandsons, who were teens: “What’s the best way to kill zombies?” A chainsaw? A bat with nails? An AR-15? Their debate quickly escalated into a verbal Gettysburg. They locked onto their opinions like … well, zombies on meat, and it was game on.

Mathieu Boya was practicing his golf swing in a pasture adjacent to Benin Air Base in Africa. With one swing of his club, Boya set off a string of events that destroyed his country’s entire air force. Described as an “inglorious slice” the ball hit a low-flying seagull, which fell into the open cockpit of a jet, as it was taxiing for takeoff. Losing control of the plane, the pilot plowed into four Phantom III fighters, which demolished the entire air force of Benin.

After being bitten by a dog, a man learned he had rabies. He immediately began making a list. His doctor informed him he had no need to make out a will; that rabies was curable. “I’m not writing a will,” he replied. “I’m making a list of people I want to bite.”

It’s over. Christmas has come and gone. Shopping, cheesy TV shows, the trip to Grandma’s, candy canes, giving and receiving gifts. But there’s a sense in which Christmas has only begun.

In 1919 a massive wave of molasses swept through Boston, killing 21 people and injuring 150 others. In the “dancing plague” of 1518, dozens of residents of Strasbourg, France danced uncontrollably for days. Many collapsed from exhaustion or died. In 897 a deceased pope was put on trial where his corpse was propped up in court. Bizarre events. But they pale in comparison to three simple words.