Confession: Iâ€™ve never bought a lottery ticket.Â Â Not even when the advertised amount is tantamount to a fantasy a la mode with another fantasy, I have refrained. Itâ€™s not that I think purchasing a chance at a dream is silly, foolish, or pure wishful thinking. I donâ€™t even blink when the media ruefully tell us the odds are ridiculous, and yet each newsperson waves his or her ticket at the camera.Â Â As they say, â€œSomeone has to win!â€ Itâ€™s just I donâ€™t believe that someone is me.
I guess Iâ€™ve never felt like a lucky person. At least not when it comes to prizes. Do you remember the television show Bozo the Clown? When my brothers and I returned from school in the late afternoon weâ€™d catch at least part of the daily showâ€¦a few cartoons and the drawing for some special prize. Weâ€™d hold our breath anticipating that our name would be spoken on TV, but then some other Jimmy or Billy or Suzyâ€™s would get pulled from the pit of entries. I think my brother sent in the name of his guinea pig, and it won before I did.
Last week a friend and I went to our first ever Chamber of Commerce meeting. There were six of us at our table, and when it came time to give out door prizes my friendâ€™s name was called almost immediately. Mine name? Nope. And there were a lot of prizes given away. Which brings me back to the lottery and the point of my post on this day.
About a month ago the lottery amount was huge. The lines to get tickets stretched past the Twinkie aisle, and hope fed the souls of dreamers. There was a lot of talk on television about what the winner would get if he or she took the cash or if it was stretched over x-amount of years. â€œWhat would YOU do with all the money?â€ became the question. Many people said they would immediately kiss their boss goodbye, and many more talked about the stuff they would buy.
As I pondered the question I realized if I had millions of dollars, I would still do what Iâ€™m doing right nowâ€¦writing my little blogs, working on my book, taking photographs, making silk scarves, and giving playshops to inspire midlife women. Huh.
Sure, having absolute financial security would be comforting, but the essence of my desires didnâ€™t change. I felt happy knowing that lottery ticketâ€”the one I never buyâ€”has no hold on my goals or pleasure. Take that guinea pig. You were never going to eat that box of bubble gum anyway.
How about you? Do you feel luckyâ€¦as Clint would say?