As Sophie Tucker famously said, “I’ve been rich and I’ve been poor. Rich is better.”
And by the time you read this, the suspense might be over. As of eleven p.m. yesterday, it looks like some lucky SOB in Chino Hills, California might be a whole lot richer because he just won the Powerball Lottery. Worth- as you know darn well- $1.5 billion dollars.
Now that’s my kind of payday.
No, I didn’t buy a ticket. I read that the odds of winning are over 292.1 million to 1.
But I could fantasize, couldn’t I?
Obscene amounts of money are my kind of porn.
It’s so diverting to dream about everything I would have done if I was that lucky SOB.
Endowing English Literature chairs at my favorite universities could be fun.
And l could figure out a way to further improve my kids’ boarding school, St. George’s. Their one hundred something year old infrastructure always needs money thrown at it.
Philanthropic Sidebar: I attended many fund-raising board meetings for the school. Big donors could always be found to contribute to bricks and mortar. A new dorm, gym or a squash court with one’s name on it was a sexy sell. But shoring up the rafters or putting on a new roof? Not so much. Someone has to replace the dilapidated HVAC systems in these old places, too. That’s where my putative largess would come in. I’d fix everything.
And then there are the Arts.
The Lyric Opera here in Chicago could always use some cash. As could the Costume Committee of the Chicago Historical Museum.
And the Sciences. I recently attended a kick ass lecture on black holes, dark matter and the Big Bang Theory delivered by gorgeous brainiac Harvard physicist, Dr. Lisa Randall.
It was sponsored by the Illinois Science Council and they always are looking for some underwriting for their worthy endeavors.
Then there are the diseases.
Having been involved since its inception, naturally I would have to write a hefty check to the Lynn Sage Cancer Research Foundation.
I could go on and on. When I’m in the chips, I just love to give it away.
But we all know that there is a dark side to winning a huge lottery.
Here’s my cautionary tale…
For years, I went to a fabulous manicurist in Winnetka. Her name- for these purposes- was “Zsa Zsa,” and I used to write about her and her clients at her nail salon when I did my old column for the Pioneer Press.
Once a week, we would gather for changes of polish or liquid wraps (this preceded the No Chip era) and we would chew the fat as the polish dried.
If you see a person once a week for ten plus years, you get to know them pretty well. And over the years, I got to know Zsa Zsa’s family- and her extended one.
Zsa Zsa was Armenian. Not an assimilated Kardashian-type Armenian-American. A full-on keep-to your-own-kind Armenian Armenian from Jerusalem.
Her private life- and that of her family- exclusively revolved around the Armenian Church. All of her friends were Armenian. And her two boys were expected to date only pre-vetted nice Armenian girls who the family knew from the community.
Very, very insular.
And then one day, her twenty-something nephew won the Illinois Lottery.
Not a real big amount. Maybe thirty thousand or forty thousand dollars.
We were thrilled for him.
And then a few years later…
He won it again!
A BIG one.
Millions this time.
His life was upended overnight. He instantly quit his factory job (well, who wouldn’t?) and married the first blonde American girl who gave him- and his dough- the time of day.
And a few years later, she divorced him, taking most of it with her.
Be careful what you wish for.
Still, it never hurts to dream.
Where was I?
Oh yeah, a big house in Snowmass and a Gulfstream G650 to take me there, a pied-à-terre in London, a little place on Ischia, an Aston-Martin DB9 GT…
Several thoughts come to mind, Ellen. When someone steals a modest amount of money and gives it all back, they are called a reform crook. When someone steals a large amount of money and gives a small portion of it back, they are called a philanthropist. Lotteries are effectively a tax on the poor and the gullible, who don’t understand that these instruments are not designed to lose money for the organization, be it private or public, that is running them. Do the math!
Many years ago, I read a biography of the great Russian-born choreographer George Balanchine. A formative event of his childhood was when his father won the lottery. The huge infusion of money–that he was ill prepared to manage wisely–pretty much ruined him (the father). You can look it up.
Da, I hear you, Doc. Didn’t I say that I didn’t buy a ticket? But if you had won, what would you do with the money? Buy a ball club?
Ellen, That ticket you did not buy was money well not spent.
BTW, Lisa Randall is a fellow Stuyvesantian, although at a different time. Here is a website that you can search for both her name and mine: http://everything.explained.today/List_of_Stuyvesant_High_School_people/
She is my idol. You are my puzzle icon.
http://youtu.be/lP5Xv7QqXiM
Not sure if this will work but the link is to the video of Warren Zevon’s ” Lawyers, Guns and Money!
It works. Thanks, Mitch. Sounds like Warren is singing about the typical lottery ticket buyer here.
I thought about using Pink Floyds Money, Money, Money, but I hate Roger Waters.
And I know why and I’m with you, my friend.
How about a little donation to the Greenhouse Theater Center. Never hurts to be first in line asking for handouts.
Chutzpah never hurts. And you’ve got some. However, it’s a worthy enterprise. Next time I hit it big, I’ll put it on the list.