Since I spent most of the last 14 days working to earn extra money, I didn’t know what I might write about.

Of course, the term ‘extra’ is actually a mistake here, since extra implies that the money isn’t needed. I need every dollar that I make and usually two or three more to go with them.

But that was before I got a phone call from a friend of mine who said he won $80 million, but I’ll tell you about that later.

First let me note that since I’ve been writing this column for about seven years on a weekly basis, I figure that means that I’ve written around 350 columns by now. That would be assuming that I’ve skipped about 14 weeks over the years, which I would say is a generous estimate. Since each column averages about 1,000 words, that would mean that I have written, and at least a few people have read, some 350,000 words that I have typed out here at computer on the humble little table that serves for a desk in my office on Main Street.

Out of all the columns I’ve written, there are two — one on quitting smoking and another about ‘dancing with a deer’ — that were well received enough to be brought up from time to time when I see people, even years after they were published. That’s two in seven years that were very popular with readers.

That means that about 2,000 of those 350,000 words were very memorable, with the rest floating off somewhere into oblivion sometime after the edition found its way under the backside of someone’s puppy. Therefore, the chances of reading a memorable column in this spot is about two in 350, or one in 175. So, you would need to read for roughly three-and-a-half years to find one memorable column. But this might be your lucky day.

Anyway, you might find better entertainment in buying lottery tickets like my friend. I was telling this story earlier to a group of folks at their place of employment, and one of them joked that if she won the lottery, she would buy the business just to burn it down. Another said he would retire and live off of the interest, just after mooning the boss. Yet another would build a large, secluded home and live out life like Howard Hughes. It seems everyone already has a plan for what they might do with their winnings.

When asked, I have to admit that I don’t have a plan in place, since I can’t imagine winning — that’s probably why I don’t play. And that’s the main reason I can’t imagine winning. (Just read it again, you’ll get it).

As for the friend who told me about the $80 million, he said he bought five Big Game lottery tickets and was waiting patiently as the numbers were called out on the news, ticket in hand. He was checking them off with his finger as they were called out and accidentally dropped his ticket when he hurriedly reached over to answer his ringing telephone.

At the time, he had the first four right in a row. He hurriedly put the caller, a friend, on hold and grabbed his ticket just as the last number was being called out. After quickly scanning the last two numbers and noting that they matched, he shouted with jubilation, “I’ve won, I’ve won!” He then told his friend the good news and they talked and laughed together for more than an hour. They both shared their plans, especially after he promised to share some of his good fortune.

After that call, he immediately called up his ex-wife to gloat, called his landlord and told him he was moving and called a few other friends. By now, it was well after midnight. My phone was off, so he left me a message. The message went something like, “I won the lottery! I’m not kidding! I’ll call you after I get the money and I’m having a big party!”

Then came the wait. He had to give the convenience store up the road time to open the following morning to have the ticket validated. He drank four pots of coffee and even cooked breakfast at 4 a.m. while singing a happy tune. Needless to say, he lives alone.

Anyway, when he got to the store, he handed over the ticket, beaming from ear to ear. The cashier said, “Yep, you’ve got a winner here,” and proceeded to count money out of the register.

“You don’t have $80 million in there,” he told the cashier incredulously. That’s when he found out that he had accidentally changed lines when he picked the ticket back up and had four on one line right and two on the one below it.

So, he ended up with $89 in cash and a sleepless night full of his wildest hopes and dreams.

When he called me to tell me the story, he was a bit down in the dumps. He doesn’t have Internet access and the only chance he had to see the numbers was as they were flashed on the TV screen, at least until he got to the store.

“What would I have done with all that money?” He asked me.

“You’d spend it,” I said. He lives on a small fixed income, so he could have used it. He told me that he had called up the landlord and apologized. “Should I call up my ex and eat crow?” He asked.

“Just let her think you’ve won for a few days and she’ll figure it out once she doesn’t see your name in the paper or your face on the news,”

I said. “Crow is never good served cold with an ex-wife.”

“I just knew I’d won and I about worried myself sick just thinking about it,” he said. “I was going to get a lawyer and move to a new place and change my name. You know, there for a minute, I felt like a person of destiny.”

“People of destiny don’t need lottery money,” I said. “Only people of destitute like us.”

“I’m going to win it,” he said resolutely. To which I responded, “Everyone who plays thinks they are going to win. Just like every parent hopes their kid will be a doctor, a lawyer or a minister. Just tell me one thing, if they had all been right, where would you get a haircut or an oil change? Why, with that many doctors and lawyers, we’d all be billed to bankruptcy or sued to death.”

“At least we’d have plenty of preachers to conduct our funeral,” he pointed out. Even I couldn’t argue with that. I didn’t bother to ask him who would dig the hole or write about it in the newspaper, but I did ask him if he was still having the party. He had to get off the phone before he could answer; his ex-wife was knocking at the door. I’ve haven’t talked to him since, but I’d really like to have been a fly on the wall for that conversation. I wonder if he told her the truth and how she responded. Who knows? Maybe they both went to the store to buy lottery tickets.

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