A Lucky Guy

Stupid stuff occasionally comes to mind, and a lot of the time I write about these wacky thoughts, many of which appear in this idiotic blog. This one particular thought has past through my mind many times over the last twenty or thirty years. In fact, I can’t believe I haven’t written about it yet. I thought I had, but as I glance through the entries in this goofball blog, I see no sign of it.

I’m a lucky guy. That’s it. That's the thought. As I said, this notion first came to me many years ago. I was probably in my 20s or early 30s. It dawned on me that I should appreciate the fact that I am a healthy American born in the 20^th Century. I could have been born a deformed infant in Ethiopia or Siberia four hundred years ago. But I wasn’t. I had the good fortune to miss out on all three of those possibilities.

I could have been born in France in 1830. Perhaps I would have lived to the age of 22 when appendicitis would have killed me. What if I had been born in China in 1560? I would have had a life-expectancy of 25 years. Twenty-five years of drudgery, working in rice patties. Who knows, maybe I would have gotten used to it. I’m glad I didn’t have to try.   

I don’t know when or how this idea first came into my mind, this idea concerning my good luck. It may have been about 1980. Perhaps I was playing golf on a sunny day, with a good friend. I may have looked around, taken it all in, and thought; I sure am lucky because life just doesn’t get any better than this.

Or it’s possible the year was 1982. I could have been sipping a red wine while dining on a perfectly-made helping of steamy lasagna. Across the table was a pretty woman, a lovely smile brightening her face. Out in the parking lot was my first brand-new automobile. Such a scenario certainly could have made me appreciate my life’s good fortune.

And my good luck just seems to continue on and on. I’ve never been struck by either lightning or a bus. For some reason, no one has felt compelled to shoot me. I’ve never had a catastrophic illness. I’ve been bitten by a dog only once, and I probably had that coming. Heck, I have retained all my teeth, except for the wisdoms. I have seen the world from the summit of Pike’s Peak, and trekked the salty floor of Death Valley, 282 feet below sea level. I have dined at the Eiffel Tower, and camped upon the White Cliffs of Dover. How does a guy get so lucky?

Is it possible that all the bad luck will hit me at once? It doesn’t seem likely, but who knows? Who would have thought I could’ve gotten this far unscathed. So maybe all the bad luck will descend upon me all at once. Heck, even if that happens, I’d be way ahead in the game.