A conversation on the nature of life took place in the waterfront workshop of a lobsterman I knew many years ago. My Friend Harley had worked hard to get where he was in life and was more than a bit annoyed with his distant cousin, Josh’s, position that it was all random. “Yes,” Josh declaimed in his Virginia waterman’s accent, “Life’s a lottery. One day it’s biscuits and gravy; the next, it’s canned sardines, hardtack, and you’re stuck with a dead engine. Calamity is just random.”
Harley looked at his distant cousin with more than a bit of disgust. “Josh, get over here, and look at this.” He pointed out to the water. When Josh was close enough, he pushed him into the cold waters of the cove. ” You miserable SOB, why’d you do that?” Harley took the time to light a fresh cigarette and said: ” Your number in the lottery just came up.”
I hurried away to check on my cat.

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