Luck . . . Again

Q: What lucky or coincidental things have happened to you in your life and maybe helped you to write you novel ALL OR NOTHING.

A: Please let this be the last luck/fate question. Please.

I believe in skill, not luck. I do not believe that things are pre-ordained or predestined and will not believe until someone shows me some hard evidence or makes a more convincing argument than any I have heard so far.

That being said . . .

1) At work, my office was the office of novelist James Lee Burke when he taught at my college. People are always saying to me, "What a coincidence. That is the same desk James Lee Burke sat at. You are destined for great things."

2) As concerns poker, I seem to have a lucky seat--seat 3. I have caught seven royal flushes in seat 3. Seat 7 is also lucky for me. I have caught 4 royal flushes in seat 7. In a ten-handed Texas Hold'em or Omaha Hi-lo game, both seat 3 and seat 7 are three seats away from the dealer. As far as I can recall, I have never caught a royal flush in any other seat.

3) I seem to have had a lucky friend. While at the casino in the swamp one night, I was losing my shirt. This guy walked in, sat down at the table, and said to me, "You look like you are having bad luck. I'm gonna give you some luck." Players often joke like that to each other. I few minutes later, I hit a royal flush. It had a nice jackpot attahced to it, so I tipped all of the players at the table as well as the dealer. My new lucky friend said to me, "I brought you luck. You should tip me more than you did the rest of them." I laughed and gave him another hundred.

The very next night, while at the casino up in Broward, I was losing my shirt. The lucky guy I had met down in the swamp came in. He was not seated at my table this time, but at a table next to mine. In fact, we were back to back. I joked ove my shoulder to him, "If you are so lucky, bring me some more luck." He joked back, "I'm doing my best, bro." A few minutes later, I caught another royal flush. When they paid me the jackpot, I tipped everybody at my table and then turned around and tipped my lucky friend, too.

Every time we saw each other, we would joke around about how he brought me luck. It was kind of funny, really. And on nights when he was in the casino, I tended to win. I made note of this . . . coincidence. One night as I was leaving the casino, I found him hanging out in the parking lot. He had lost all of his money, he was afraid to go home to his wife, he had bills to play--blah, blah, blah--typical gambler spiel. What he really wanted was money to gamble with.

I had won a couple hundred that night and so I split it with him, but he said, "I am your good luck, bro. You should give me more money. Give me everything you won because I need it. Then go back inside and use the luck you get from me to win something really big."

This was complete BS, and I knew it, but I had been lucky with him. So I gave him all of my winnings from that night, then went back inside and sat down at the poker table. As I recall it, I could not seem to LOSE a hand that night. Before I knew it, my chips amounted to way more than the $200 or so that I had given him. Then a few hours later I hit a royal flush for about ten grand.

When I saw my lucky friend again a few weeks later, I pulled out a few hundreds and stuck them in his hand. He was suprised because he had not asked me for anything. He said, "What's this for?" I told him about the royal flush I had hit the night I had met him in the parking lot.

We laughed and laughed. "What do you think it means?" he asked.

"Well, I don't believe in luck, so I have no idea what it means," I told him.

And he said, "Well, believe this. I am moving out of town. I got a new job up in New York. I'm leaving tomorrow. Let's see how you do when I'm gone."

I laughed and told him, "I'll do just fine."

We slapped five and I never saw him again. I guess he moved to New York.

I also have never hit another royal flush.

4) After my divorce, I told my mother that I would never marry again. I had just started my new job that week. I had left the public schools for the community college. I was looking forward to making money and being single for the rest of my life. What need had I of marriage? I already had two kids from my ex, and I did not desire any further "marital torment," as I described it to my mother. I meant it. I was adamant about this thing.

The next day at work, my new boss, who, to my delight, seemed to like me very much, asked me to do some extra work (over time, more money!) in the writing lab at our satellite campus in Hialeah. Well, I was going through a divorce and needed the money, so I said, eagerly, "Yes."

So after work, I went to do my part-time night gig at the Hialeah Center, and upon meeting the woman who ran the lab felt a bit of the old lightning bolt. When I got home that night, I told my mother, "I just met the woman I am going to marry."

My mother could only nod her head, smiling at her fickle son.

Fickle, my big fat butt. My wife and I will have been married seventeen years in October.

In one of my many chats with my colleague and fellow writer poet/novelist Geoffrey Philp, I mentioned how I met my wife. I said, "If Elaine hadn't sent me over there, we never would have met."

And he said, "Elaine put me and my wife together too. She was in charge of the labs back then and assigned us to work together."

I forget who our other colleague was, but she overheard us and exclaimed, "Elaine put me and my husband together, too!"

5)

This is the one that makes me sad, but here goes. My mother passed away a year ago.

On the anniversary of her passing, I kept seeing three 7s. I saw them on a license plate. I saw them on a billboard. I saw them painted on the side of a truck. Then I even saw three Zs on something, but the bottom was obscured and the three Zs looked more like three 7s.

That night in the Play-4, the number was 7773, which was mother mother's phone number.

The next night 1972 came up boxed in the Play-4. My brother Anthony, who was not at the funeral and for all intents and purpoes is estranged from the family, was born in 1972.

I told my other brothers about it. It freaked them out.

6) One day I was playing Hold'em, and my cards were bad. Bad. For about three hours I was getting nothing but crappy hole cards. So I said to myself, I don't care what kind of crap I get in the hole, I am going to play the next hand. When I got my next hand, I looked at my hole cards: 2, 9. More crap. But I kept my promise and I played bad cards. The flop came 2, 2, 2. This meant that I now had four 2s, an unbeatable hand. Amazing.

7) I once picked up a hitchhiker during a very bad storm. She was a tall young woman with a dainty umbrella. When she got into my car, she said, "Do you smoke?"

I said, "No."

She said, "Do you get high? You mind if I get high?"

What kind of girl was this? She looked to be maybe 16. She had tattoos and piercings all over her face and arms. Her hair was cut short like a man's. As the rain and wind pelted thec car, I said, "No. I do not get high, and you will not get high in my car, either. Ma'am, would you just tell me where you'd like me to drop you off."

"No problem," she smirked, brushing me off as old school, out of touch, a square, a geezer. "The house is in Opa-Locka. You know where that is, pops?"

"Yes."

I knew where it was. Opa-Locka is not the safest neighborhood in Miami. In fact, it is reputed to be one of the most dangerous. I grew up in Opa-Locka back when it wasn't so bad.

When she gave me the address, I was in for another surprise. It was my old address! This girl lived in my old house.

I told her this, and her attitude changed. She became friendlier, more respectful. I told her which room used to be mine and she said, "That's my room now. Me and my little sister's!"

When we got to her house, the rain had abated, and we were both in for another surprise--she more than I. I spotted a man standing at the open door of her house and asked her who he was. She said, "My dad."

But he looked familiart. A little taller, a little stouter, but the same sleepy eyes and fat cheeks. I told her, "His name is __________ __________, right?"

She said, "Yes! How do you know him?"

"We were in fourth grade together. We sat next to each other in fourth grade."

The tattooed girl said to me as I was getting out of the car to go greet my old buddy, "Don't tell him what I asked you about getting high, okay? Please don't tell him."

I winked at her. It would be our secret.