How much really is too much? Can you have enough wealth? Most of us, and our immediate circle of friends, are what we used to call “comfortable”. Our immediate needs are met – we don’t face “food insecurity” or being homeless, at least I don’t think we do. As many of my readers know, I’m still chasing that illusive lottery payoff. My big check from Publishers Clearing House has not arrived, despite them telling me it’s on the way. They even have my address for delivery.
We don’t invest a lot in possible winnings. Some five-dollar scratch tickets here and there, and a few chances on the local tri-state lottery. Right now, the pot is about $2 million, which is more than we’d need. We could get a small vacation place with a beach view, of which Her Ladyship has always dreamed. Maybe a new car, although the current one runs well and, fingers crossed, will continue that way. I’ve been judging some spring music festivals, which earns enough to cover most of my plant expenditures, and it keeps me in wine. I’m happy.
Recently, however, our daughter – known to you all as The Princess, has been developing delusions of grandeur. By way of background, when she started her college career, political communication was the aim. She went to DC – to George Washington University, which to my mind was a great place to be. I thought, ok. MacNeil and Lehrer seem to be doing pretty well. One of them drove a Mercedes – I don’t remember which, so that bodes well. Judy Woodruff has done well for herself. Maybe she’ll be an anchor on “60 Minutes” or “Face the Nation”, asking the tough questions. I know she’s always been tough and direct with her father, particularly about houseplants. But, no . . . .
Communications morphed into media and media production. She worked at GW in the electronic media building, and worked at a film competition. It was a nonprofit, but it gets you thinking that she’d be another Steven Spielberg or, on the other end, Ken Burns. Making documentaries at a brisk pace while keeping her loving, doting parents in the luxury to which they’d like to become accustomed. Until she announced that the production end of things wasn’t really what interested her either. She didn’t really see herself “behind the camera” for the rest of her life. So, . . . . . .
Now she’s finishing her doctorate in media, writing her dissertation on the Oscars. With a focus on its attitudes and trends. And, it turns out, Hollywood is not more progressive than the rest of the population. The new trajectory is in teaching about media – particularly film, at the college level, although she has a sideline specialty in True Crime. I know this because she recommends them to her mother. Not altogether bad, because I can then escape to the gardens or my local nurseries. The trend began some years ago, when she was home for the summer. I’d be sitting pleasantly reading my newspaper and listening to my classical music station on the radio. She’d walk over to the unit, and with a disgusted, “let’s turn that crap off”, would activate the television to something truly blood-curdling. You know the ones. Where a seemingly innocent young lady is sitting in an interview room, telling the interviewer, “I first had thoughts of killing my family when . . . . . . “. That’s my cue to tune it out and leave the room, with the admonition to “watch this, Dad, you’ll like it.” No, I’m pretty sure I won’t. But, once again, I’ve digressed.
I have been advised by the Princess that I really need to aim higher on the lottery ladder. Forget the million or two. That won’t cut it for her. She now needs a considerable legacy, because she’d like to be a major philanthropist. Running a charitable trust from a penthouse overlooking Boston Harbor. Dispensing huge sums of money to – well, not sure who exactly. Aspiring film makers. Folks digging up true crimes that beg to be brought to light. Her mother and I are big fans of Public Television, but that’s never really been mentioned as a recipient of her foundation’s largess, but I’ve been told that a couple million here or there just won’t do the job. Perhaps she will be to the True Crime Network what Darlene Shiley was to “Downton Abbey.” Although, for some reason, Herself and Darlene have never “got on”, as Inspector Barnaby would say on Midsomer Murders.
With all that said, I’ve been advised to invest more of our retirement resources to the bigger payoff lotteries. Powerball, MegaMillions. Those are our new targets. Hundreds of millions, not a paltry million or two. She does have a point. Her Ladyship has designated large donations to, well, almost everyone she knows. Family and friends, acquaintances, in fact almost everyone except Ms Shiley, who, for some reason, she doesn’t care for particularly. But, not to worry – I think Darlene is doing quite well financially. Meanwhile, Her Ladyship scours the real estate sections of the newspaper each weekend of suitable high-end area residences for the Princess, whose sales commission will bring a smile to some agent’s face.
So far, my luck has held true to form, as in the HGTV Dream House drawing. Local housing has passed us by. There were a couple of very nice locations in New England and the Northeast that would have worked for us. An attractive little eight bedroom, solar-powered bungalow on Martha’s Vineyard with heated window seats and a kitchen that looked like a much larger version of “Chopped”, would be very nice. Yes, I can see myself on the deck with my morning coffee and newspaper, “kicking back” is, I believe, the currently used expression, but no. They’ve all gone to someone else.
I’m left with a balancing act. I buy the smaller scratch tickets – some in Massachusetts because they have bigger payoffs than in New Hampshire. Herself scratches them faithfully in search of said illusive payoffs. If I hear tearing from the area of her chair, I know it wasn’t a winner. I also am buying a combination of large and small. Remarkably, studies show that many who have won the big payoffs end up losing all, or most of it, and aren’t any happier for the experience. I do remember reading of someone out west that won a million dollars, about $700,000 after taxes, and then proceeded to buy a $680,000 house. If you do the math, you know that couldn’t have ended well, and it didn’t. So, no, I don’t want a lot. Just enough to be on “My Lottery Dream Home”, where David calls us “cutie pies” and finds us a small, manageable waterfront condo that isn’t likely to wash away with climate change. Maybe Mar a Lago will come on the market sometime soon. Nah, probably overpriced. Plus, I don’t want to pay out my new fortune on flood or hurricane insurance.
I'm Thinking...No! 