First…what would you say/think if I told you I bet $20 each to win on the five longest shots in yesterday’s Kentucky Derby? An hour before the race every fiber of my being was screaming at me to do just that.
As I began to think about executing these bets, the weight of the last 12 years sunk in. NOTHING I have done in that time seems to have worked out as I had hoped. In the end, I didn’t make the bets. Of course, the second longest shot in the 148-year history of the Kentucky Derby came charging up the rail at the end to win. Rich Strike went off at 80-1; the horse was not even entered in the race as of 8 AM Friday. I have to admit I literally cried with disappointment a few minutes after the race ended. While the winnings from a $20 bet on Rich Strike would not have been a life-changing amount of money, it sure would have felt good.
As I wrote here, life has defeated me. I have no confidence left to do anything. If you had told me 12 years ago this month that I would have been unemployed/retired, not by choice, for the last decade I wouldn’t have been able to comprehend that scenario. (By the way, I STILL don’t have my car. The part that was supposed to be delivered on Thursday to the dealer will not arrive before Monday. By the time my wonderful wife and I return from our trip, and assuming the car will finally be fixed by then, it will have been almost 40 days without driving it.)
I’m sure that many, if not most, of you are growing weary of my frequent lamentation over my perception of my lack of good luck. It is what it is and it is not good. Don’t judge a man until you have walked a mile in his shoes.
A year and a half ago–November 8, 2020, to be exact–my wonderful wife and I moved into our Arizona home. That day was also a Sunday (yes, the driver and crew delivered our contents on a Sunday) so it has been exactly 78 weeks since we moved in. That move was also filled with all sorts of disappointments, but we are happy to be here. (The interstate moving business is a racket.)
In some ways, it doesn’t seem possible that it’s already been a year and a half, but in others it seems like we’ve been here for years. The last year has not exactly been a picnic with the death of my wonderful wife’s mother from cancer and then my wife’s own cancer diagnosis five weeks after her mother died.
I am writing this post at about 2 AM on Sunday because I just can’t sleep despite taking 10 mg of melatonin. The only time in my life I can remember being in such a state is the two-month period that began in early January, 2004 when my mother died and then I almost joined her the following month.
Sometimes I just want to scream and cry, but nothing good would come of that. I worry that I would get out of control and damage the house and/or myself.
If you’re still reading this post, I will reward you by stopping now.