Good Things

I have what my daughters would call dumb good luck. Really dumb. Off the charts stupid. This means I fall in shit and tend to come up smelling not just like roses but more like Coco Chanel. Things work out for me.

For example, last January, finally coming to terms with how horrible my teaching job was, I decided to quit in June. My wife — a sensible, logical woman — asked, "what will you do instead?" I shrugged. "Something will come to me." She expected (hoped?) I would start scouring the classifieds. That I still believe such things as classified ads still exist indicates how good I am at looking for jobs. It should then come as no surprise that I took January off from thinking about what would come next, what job would replace teaching. Everyone deserves a month to come to grips with things.

Then I took February off from making any decisions. March too. As April approached, she lost patience with me. (It's impressive she lasted that long, but she's pretty cool and seems to love me.) Still, she kind of broke and may have said something like, "what are you planning for us to live on?" When I shrugged this time she wasn't even a little amused, but here's the thing: I was sure something would come along. Like usual, something did.

Good things find me especially when I'm expecting them. Last year I was open to good things. I trusted the world and myself. So it's not shocking that I was presented with two opportunities and that the one I chose turned out to be fantastic. But even when I'm not expecting things to work out, they just do.

As a kid, I failed out of college. Talk about disaster. Three semesters of Clarkson tuition down the toilet. I came home at Christmas feeling like a complete failure, certain I would never recover. After New Year's, I drove to the community college. Handing my application to a woman there, I asked, "when will I hear if I get accepted?" She patted my hand, smiled, and said, "oh, honey, everyone gets accepted." In that moment good things began coming to me.

I took classes and worked full-time and did homework and loved most every moment of it. Classwork came easily, not because the classes were all easy but because I was ready to work, learn, and see what would happen. I didn't worry about grades. I just wanted to figure everything out and felt like I could. Good thing after good thing came my way.

A kid in psychology class complained he was failing math. I told him, "I know math." He asked me to tutor him and I did. During our fourth session I decided to become a teacher. It was just so clear. I finished community college, went on to earn a four-year degree in teaching, got into graduate school tuition-free with an assistant-ship that along with my what my girlfriend (now wife) earned paid rent and bills. After that I endured the life of a substitute teacher but only for five months. I was offered a part-time teaching job I hadn't even been looking for and which led to more good things.

But enough of my history. I want to think about what makes for my dumb good luck. I'm not pure as the driven snow. I've made too many mistakes, squandered opportunities, overestimated and underestimated my talents, and done people wrong. I'm as much of a mess as the next person.

It's not because I was born on third base thinking I hit a triple. I was born on first base with huge lead against a catcher with a weak arm, but I've always known that. (Of course, that proves I really was born on second base and am underestimating the privilege afforded white, middle class men.) I got a great head start, but plenty of people get better starts and haven't gotten where I have, so what's the deal?

Is it stupid good luck? I don't want to think so. Luck is arbitrary and unreliable. What I've experienced has been regular and predictable. I end up in good situations. I don't believe in luck, but if we have to call it luck, I can live with that.

You might think I'm going to say I've made my own luck, that I create all this good stuff. There's some truth to that, but I don't think I've done anything impressive for which I should take credit. I've just gotten used to good things, come to expect them. My expectations are skewed.

I don't care to be rich. Well, I wouldn't mind buying a Tesla, but really, I don't care much about wealth. I've never been poor that I know of. There were times Mom talked like we were poor, but Dad never went down that road. He exuded quiet confidence that all was and would be well. He found money. Not like that. He found it by going to work. He bought a business and worked a second job until the business got going. Mom took a job too. Together they made things work, made good things happen. They weren't rich but were satisfied. They had dreams that weren't crazy-town and reached them one after another.

Mostly I'm like that.

Back when we first married, all my wife wanted was a good job, a warm house, and two children. In that order. We did it backward. Two children we expected to be wonderful. And so they are. Not perfect, but perfect for us. While she was pregnant with our first child, we found a house and made it the warm, comfortable, messy, cozy home we always wanted. Now we have jobs that make us happy in most every way. It only took twenty-nine years.

All of this is supposed to be leading somewhere, but I don't have much of a conclusion to draw other than that I'm sure the next good thing is around the corner. Maybe it will be the thing I'm imagining. Maybe something else entirely. I'm shrugging as I type because it doesn't matter what it is, I know it will be good.

Okay, that sounds pretty damn Pollyanna. I know. Sorry. It's not like birds don't occasionally crap on my head. Just last weekend someone dented holy hell out of my mighty Prius. Even so, nothing was really damaged, the car is ten years old, and the dent kind of makes the car look tough. (Somewhere my tall, bearded friend is laughing at the ridiculous notion that a Prius could every look tough.) I've had troubles and worries. Lord knows I have anxieties. Yet, it works out. I come out ahead.

There's a whole other piece to write about my anxiety and the dark holes into which I sometimes fall. That piece, if I get around to writing it, will balance this one. I mention it just to be honest. I don't always remember and believe it, but for now I know that good things keep coming to me.

Why is that? How have I made that happen? If I share the answers, this can go viral, and the Tesla will at last be mine.

But I don't know the answers. All I have left is this story:

Yesterday I struggled choosing to do or not do something. A friend and I got together for lunch and I told her about it. She gave me a nugget of wisdom that unclogged my brain and brought me to the place where I could decide. I then called my wife (who is enjoying this decision process much more than the last one). She told me whatever I decided I would come out ahead and happy. I talked with two friends, then made my decision to go for it, to take a leap. It worked when I quit teaching and this time there are fewer risks though maybe an even bigger reward.

I was looking for a push and happened to have lunch with the friend who could provide it. Good things again.

I don't know what will happen now that I've made the decision and taken the leap, but it will be good and lead to the next good thing. Dumb good luck? I think it's something else but don't know its true name. What I do know is that the name will come to me, like most good things do.