$220 Million Jackpot

I see from the billboards that someone won the $220 million PowerBall jackpot. The insane part of me notes that I’ve yet to check the numbers on my ticket. I wonder how many other Americans only sense of hope comes from that little piece of paper?
No. I never expect to win it. I understand the odds. But it’s nice to think about. The big house on the hill, surrounded by lots of land. The Corvette I’ve wanted since I was a boy. All the recording equipment I could want. That set of four Alembic basses I’ve fanasized about.
Well, I realized I was about to start rattling off what I’d buy for Mara and Mama, too, and the things I would do to help out the local community and various charities. But I’m sure everyone gets my point.
I suppose in the end if I want any of those things I’m going to have to get off my ass and make it happen myself. Oddly enough, though, I have the strangest feeling that I’ve been hearing myself say that for decades. I suppose to me, then, at forty years of age, winning the lottery would make up for twenty years of inaction. Therein lies my hope.

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