Luck and lateness

I planned to get this out around St. Patrick’s Day, which is now a blurry green memory. To my insanely Irish pals and others who celebrate, I hope it was happy.

Each year, I try to raise a glass to a guy who returned to the site of his enslavement to do good works, even if I don’t believe in his particular brand of magic. He assembled an incredible marketing team – the shamrock is a very good symbol for a trinity and the idea of chasing away snakes that were never there? Brilliant.

Plus, dogma be damned, they managed to connect his legacy to the intoxicating idea of luck.

I believe in luck.

I pick up pennies, I rub Buddha bellies, and there are over a dozen references to luck in Never Ready. To me it’s just healthy recognition of facts on the ground. Of course, you want to optimize your shot at getting lucky. You want to be in the room when luck shows up.

You get in the room through discipline and work, but as Carmen tells Henri, there are many “talented broken hearted” out there. They have a lot of talent; many, many are hardworking, but they just didn’t have luck.

It’s key to recognize luck when it’s good, so you don’t blame yourself when it’s bad. Recently a guy in a tank, I mean Cadillac Escalade, creamed my beloved, if elderly Subaru. Not great luck.

You’re lucky you’re ok.

Can I hear an amen? I’m delighted to be in one piece, and I love my new hybrid ride, but let’s admit it was bad luck that this guy “failed to yield” (a rather overly diplomatic, inaccurate way of putting it). I’m mad but getting past it by making lemonade, the drink for our times (is there anything the Egyptians didn’t figure out first?).

I’m listening to Marvin Gaye’s Lucky, Lucky Me and rereading Zen Shorts by Jon Muth, with its stunning illustrations and great reminders that sometimes what seems unlucky turns out ok.

But sometimes it doesn’t.

Sometimes you’re just not ready for what’s ahead. People around you make terrible decisions or face impossible challenges, and though everyone’s done “the work,” there’s a swamp to wade, whether it’s emotional, logistical, or financial.

Among other things, Never Ready is about fragility – of family, conviction, health, and friendships – and frequently when the things we count on fall apart, it’s simply bad luck.

So hard for us strivers to accept, I know.

But while slogging in our waders, hopefully we can also celebrate the green of spring and the certainty of regeneration.

Thank you gift givers and book clubs.

I always said I didn’t care if the story reached a lot of people, I just wanted it to resonate with the right people.

So it makes me feel great when any of you enjoy the book enough to give it to someone else. Thank you boosters and repeat customers!

I also feel lucky and grateful when organizers and groups allow me to visit in person or on Zoom for book club.

Please don’t hesitate to reach out if you have interest.

It’s so fun to learn from you.