GOOD FORTUNE: ACCIDENTAL OR PLANNED

My happy good fortune could never be planned any more than a shark chooses their favorite remora.

It’s all been a long string of happy coincidence.

Just another fat baby boomer taking up space in comfort and luxury.

That’s me. How about you, same thing?

Probably not, but check with younger people to know for sure.

I come from a long line of do-gooders with a late start.

My grandparents were strong in their community with early PFLAG support and helping women with bad husbands.

They came to their awareness after their son came out of the closet in 1964.

 

Uncle J: I’m gay.

Grands: Well this is a small town so you’ll have to leave.

Uncle: If you ever want to see me again I’ll be in San Francisco.

 

They missed their boy, took a trip to visit him, and changed their ways for the better of all.

I grew up knowing people could accept others.

It was a good lesson to learn early.

I learned it before I heard hate speech condemning everything to hell that fell outside a narrow narrative of how to live your life.

This was my favorite joke for quite a while and I still like it:

 

A horny lady came to visit the reverend of her church one day.

Things took an odd turn when hot and bothered said she wanted to do it standing up between the pews.

The reverend, a prudent man, said they could not do it standing up between the pews.

“It’s too big a risk, Mrs. Jones, someone might see us and think we were dancing.”

 

The History Of Good Fortune

Things took a sharp turn for me in 1980 when I lugged all of my worldly belongings down an 8th Ave sidewalk in NYC.

I got on a bus one evening, pulled out of an underground tunnel into the bustle of city traffic, and got off in Portland, Oregon three days later.

It was a planned trip with lots of help, a relocation trip to my good fortune.

I’ve done more than a few blog posts with focused blogger attention on Portland, in particular Portland baby boomers.

Back then I rode my bike past the places hip people parked their BMW’s and Mercedes.

Jake’s was packed with guys in Bermuda shorts, pink polo shirts, and shiny hair with permanent bottle curls checking out the new crop of babes with their buddies.

The Veritable Quandary was nice to ride by:

 

“The V.Q. has long been a favorite watering hole of lawyers, city planners and wheeler-dealers, as well as anyone looking to enjoy a good meal, a full bar and a great patio.”

 

I settled in with the idea Portland would be the home I didn’t find in Philadelphia or Brooklyn.

What I didn’t do is pass the boyfriend test. Not that I was a bad boyfriend, it’s just that the women I met wanted more.

They wanted a guy who felt comfortable in Jake’s, who felt casual in the Quandary.

They were looking for their own acceptance Portland style; I was looking the other way.

Dumping me was the best thing they did for themselves. Besides, I don’t look good in a pink polo.

My mom asked about the ladies in my life and said, “What do you expect, you ride a bike. Who do you think you’ll attract?”

It was a fair question from the mom who sent her boy out to pick up their high school dates in a Volkswagen camper van.

Who did I think I’d attract riding a bike? The answer was easy: A Biker.

I shared this story with a girl I dated back then.

 

“And then she asked who I thought I’d attract riding a bike instead of driving a car and I told her, ‘a biker.'”

 

We both laughed and laughed. Hoo-wee, good one.

The next day she rolled up on her new bike and we started planning our wedding.

 

Misfortune: Accidental Or Planned

The biggest part of continued good fortune in marriage, and therefore anything else in case my wife reads this, the biggest part is shared concern.

Shared concern reaches past a person, place, or thing, but you’ve got to start somewhere to create a culture.

It’s best if you start out knowing what you care about.

Like Mrs. Jones’ reverend from above, people have different concerns that take time to come out.

You think it’s this, but it’s that, and you’re left standing alone to figure out what went wrong.

Like Grandma and Grandpa, it might take a minute to realize having the people you want in your life is more important than what your friends might think.

Like good citizens who understand the oaths taken by soldiers and senators, who feel the oath is a part of them, it takes time to feel the dread of masked, uniformed, people walking down streets and across fields in contradiction to the promise of a fair deal.

Anyone with a feel for history has seen the same images from different times, from Warsaw to Chicago.

I know a young man in farm management, a leader who spends his nights and days on the land to meet the challenges his workers may face at harvest time.

This is a man willing to protect the rights provided in America to everyone within its borders.

 

It will be good fortune for all to work on problems that need unmasking in the light of day.