It's All Luck

A woman e-mailed me today asking, "Is it all just dumb luck? I mean, I see so many people in the media who are stupider than the schwa key on my computer keyboard, but for some reason there they are, famous, with the eyes of the world upon them. Meanwhile, truly talented folks like myself wait tables, re-shelve library books, or nanny children, while waiting to be discovered. I'm a really good writer. Lots of people have told me so. I've been assured that I have plenty of talent."

For a moment I paused, wondering if I had been insulted. Is she implying that I'm the equivalent of a schwa? Useless, stupid, but still hanging around because someone else hasn't been discovered, and, thus, hasn't yet replaced me? Then, I quelled my self-doubt long enough to respond to her query:

Dear Ma'am,
A couple of years ago sitting in the hair salon hot seat, otherwise known as "under the dryer," I read a magazine article about successful women and how they achieved it. One woman interviewed said that everything she accomplished in life was due to luck, all luck, that she created. She did everything she could to put herself in the right place at the right time so that luck would come her way. Yes, it is all luck, but anyone can have what you refer to as dumb luck, with enough persistence.

After I hit the SEND button, I decided that I had been insulted and I carried on a monologue with my computer screen as an audience, the e-mail question still staring me down. And I asked the lady, "Ever watch American Idol auditions? All those people traipsing through, crooning their hearts out for the judges, bragging that they each will be THE next American Idol? When those contestants come out of that room crying because Randy, Paula, and Simon said they didn't make it, what do they always insist on? Yes! They tell Ryan Seacrest, 'I can sing. Everyone tells me I can. When I sing in public, people crowd around me and they stare. I'm good. Those judges just don't know what they're talking about.' Sound familiar? Don't let your family and friends fool you."

As my hand hovered to close the e-mail, that nagging voice of self-doubt broke in. What if my friends and family have been lying to me, too? Praising me just to make me feel good? Saying something nice only because it was better than not saying anything at all?

Guess I'll have to go out and create more dumb luck for myself.

Just the Right Insult for the Occaision

As every southerner knows, male or female, insults must be tailored to the occasion. And as Thanksgiving is pecking at the door, I thought I would give you one to pack in your bags and take to your relatives, who by Thursday afternoon will have sufficiently annoyed you enough to break it out and leave on ice as you depart.

All good, decent, upstanding, moral southern women currently stand in kitchens, dining rooms, and butler pantries all over Georgia, Tennessee, Mississippi, Alabama, the Carolinas, Arkansas, Kentucky, and other less desirable places to which they have been unfortunately relocated, polishing, along with their silver, their tongues. They rehearse, in private, how they will tell Uncle Bubba to smoke out on the porch, and Aunt Viola to stay out of the kitchen, and other things of that nature.

All good, decent, upstanding, moral southern men currently stand in driveways all over Georgia, Tennessee, Mississippi, Alabama, the Carolinas, Arkansas, Kentucky, and other less desirable places to which they have been unfortunately relocated, with their leaf blowers revved, thinking how they will run interference between their side of the family and hers. They blow leaves in and out of the driveway for a very long time.

By Thursday at noon, extended families will have piled into cars and driven to the homes of hosts and hostesses, for the lunch to end all lunches. Some will cope by imbibing liquor squirreled away in secret stashes. Others will survive through psychological or physical withdrawal. At any rate, nerves will rub raw by 6p.m. and you, my friend, will have the ultimate survival technique, gleaned from these pages. You will have an insult tailored to the occasion:

Say, confidentially to the family gossip in hushed whispers, "Good heavens, can you believe ___________? She acts like a guest in her own home!" Then kiss Thanksgiving good-bye, because as all good, decent, upstanding, moral southerners know, Thanksgiving is a designated fighting holiday.