An out-of-state friend called couple of weeks back, asking if we have the Powerball lottery where I live. I told him we did.
Well, he tells me, you and I should get some of that $900 million jackpot. He promised to send me a dollar and I promised to buy a ticket.
Yes, I know the odds of winning such a game are astronomically small, but the purchase was made that day on my way home.
Be it racetracks, casinos, or card games in some smoky basement, I’ve never been much of a gambler. But I do find the entertainment offered by the occasional lottery purchase more than worth the price.
In this case, my $2 outlay allowed me a couple days’ worth of extraordinary imagining. Rather than mentally drool over cars, guitars, and seaside homes, I indulged in making lists of loved ones and charities to support.
Okay, maybe a notion or two about a fine convertible and a vintage Telecaster crossed my mind, but only after lofty thoughts of philanthropy, as well as the idea that it would be SO nice to spend these winter months somewhere where it did not feel so much like winter.
But what was most striking was the wonderment over how it would feel to not have to worry at all about money.
In our time, I think that feeling economically insecure is all too common. Most folks I know struggle to temper their concern about holding onto the job they have, even if it’s not as fulfilling as it might be in their heart or pocketbook. And plenty of us fret over how we will get by in our later years, when we are perhaps less able to hold our own in the daily rat race.
What must it be like to suddenly have assets with so many zeros? I know there are lottery winners who regret having made their fortune, but, frankly, that’s a chance I’m willing to take.
In any case, I bought my ticket and did not win. And as the major media went crazy promoting lottery fever, I was back again the following week, ready and willing to take home that one-and-a-half billion dollars.
Like me, did you stand in line with a multitude of others at the local convenience store? I noted people’s faces as they waited for the clerk to punch in their numbers. There was no desperation in their countenances, rather they seemed lost in a daydream of what could be. And despite the crowded quarters there at the minimart, these lotto dreamers were patient and polite.
Again, I did not hit it big; the winning tickets on the billion-and-a-half were purchased in Florida, Tennessee, and California. Here’s hoping you have an old, dear friend in Chino Hills who owes you a favor.
But I don’t consider my money wasted. The purchase gave me a long-shot chance – something all Americans love – as well as a few moments fantasizing about the possibility the knot in my stomach could one day unclench forever.
Now, that’s what I call an entertainment value.