I Won the Lottery

By Bruce L. Brager

I won the lottery, the really big lottery, the really, really big lottery. I had to split my winnings with my sister, who co-bought the ticket. But call me one of the winners. I took my winnings in cash. I have to admit, though, that I blew my winnings on Thursday, starting right after collecting the cash. I should have consulted a tax attorney and an investment advisor. I should have calculated my tax obligations to the Feds, New York State and New York City. Instead, I went on a spree.

My winnings paid for two cans of soda that day, since the ticket was for a grand total of $4. I had considered taking a penny and a half or so for the next 29 years, but decide to go for broke. At least, though, since I bought the sodas at different places, I obeyed the traditional warning of “don’t spend it all in one place.”

Living in New York, if able and rich, I could spend a whole lot more than $2 in one day. I can walk to Sotheby’s auction house for a Van Gogh or two, then over to Billionaires’ Row on 57th Street for a nice penthouse in which to put the paintings. With a little skill, and not too much planning, by the end of the day I could have blown several hundred million. Van Goghs are nice wall hangings, though. They also let people know you have a whole lot of money. I suppose I could have invested the winnings. Not in the stock market this month – that is another story about how to make a small fortune by starting with a large fortune – but in a new ticket for the next drawing. However, the $40 million prize seemed like chump change.

This was actually my eighth lottery win. A few were noteworthy. I won $100 once from Washington PBS, for my twenty dollar fee. When my next paycheck arrived I had $50 left in the bank. Another time I entered for a giveaway at Sebago, after buying a pair of their classic loafers. I won another pair. Once I might have picked the wrong time to show fiscal restraint. I bought a one dollar scratch off ticket one Friday at lunch. I won $2. I bought another, and won $3. Then I made my mistake. I stopped playing and bought a diet soda. That diet soda might have cost me $50,000. Of course, if my mother had not thrown out my baseball cards, I would not have needed the money.

Money doesn’t buy happiness, they say. But they also say it can let you pay for the shrink to discuss your unhappiness. A cousin-in-law of my mother once made $50,000,000 in the insurance business, insuring places in the inner city – that is another essay. His wife needed psychiatric help to deal with suddenly being rich. My mother told me she was willing to risk the problems of a lot of money. Of course, the cousin probably needed further help when her husband got caught lying on financial statements. My own family’s penny ante à la Bernie Madoff.

Jimmy the Greek once said that the safest way to play in a casino is to budget for entertainment, and when you have spent that, say goodnight and leave. Easy to say; hard to do. What, for example, do you do if you win? You might well win. The odds favor the house, but if no one wins no customers come.

My own reluctance in gambling in a Casino is the common emotional lure of easy money, despite the logic of preplanning and placing limits. I am not 100 percent sure I can place limits on myself. Probably yes, but not certainly. The danger with gambling is the idea that just one more big score will settle the score, so to speak, and enable to the player to at least break even.

Perhaps I should not put so little faith in myself. Maybe, probably, I can allocate, say, $20.00 for entertainment. If I lose, decide it was a learning experience and say goodbye. If I win, pay myself back, and more, than go on from there. Gambling’s attraction would seem more to more potential, rather than the immediate effects of alcohol or drugs. So, with a little care – on occasion I can show care; I did not buy a ticket with my winnings -- an hour in a casino might be fun. Just remember I am a tourist out for a little relaxation, and a writer out for a few ideas. I am not James Bond taking on Ernest Blofield. To coin a phrase, I have to know when to walk away, as well when to hold, fold, and run.

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