Easy Sunday: I didn't win.

I didn't win the $1.8 billion Powerball prize.

This probably sounds like "sour grapes," but I am not too disappointed not to have won. 

Winning would be a mixed blessing.

In years past, when the jackpot got so big that there was national news about it, I have purchased a ticket. I made a game of it and had some fun -- fun for me -- with the store clerks. I would buy the ticket acting as if I were utterly confident I would win. Keeping a straight face, I would explain what I was going to do with my winnings, acting as if I were certain of a win. The clerks seemed unclear if I were delusional or just joking, and that was my fun.

A lottery gives people a chance to think big, and I suppose it is harmless. Little girls seem to like the Cinderella story. They imagine that they are chosen by a prince and then get to live a great life of ball gowns and diamond-covered carriages. Many women don't fully outgrow the Cinderella story, judging by the Hallmark Channel, which is targeted primarily at women. Many of their Christmas movies involve a beautiful, good-hearted woman with some respectable middle-income job (matchmaker or wedding planner) who captures the attention and affection of a prince from some small European country where people speak English with a light British accent. The shows end with them kissing and agreeing to be married and presumably living happily ever after. We don't see her in the backseat of a limo fleeing from paparazzi.

The male version of the Cinderella story is the Clark Kent/Superman story. I loved those when I was ten years old. The boy appears to be a shy, weak nerd, but is in fact handsome, strong, and heroic, changeable by stepping into a phone booth and taking off his glasses. 

I think the lottery is an iteration of those childhood stories. Imagine what could happen!

I think winning would be an enormous complication. I live a very manageable life now, and it would be made uncomfortable by having to negotiate all the tax and distribution issues of getting hundreds of millions of dollars. My wife and I would need to set up trusts and foundations. That sounds like work.

We could give a slug of money to Southern Oregon University, which would feel good. That's a positive. SOU needs it more than Harvard does. But I worry that the SOU president and development staff might be disappointed if we merely made seven-figure contributions. They might be secretly hoping for more, whatever we gave. I wouldn't want to disappoint them. That is a big motivator for me. I don't like to disappoint people asking for money for a good cause, because I know how hard it is to do that.

The big splurge question is airline travel. I hate airline travel. That is probably because I fly in small seats in the back of planes. Why? Because it seems like a waste to pay $4,000 for a four-hour flight when I could get there for $400 if I squeezed into seats at the back. I think to myself: I could make a $3,600 contribution to Southern Oregon University with the money I am wasting on not being miserable, and it is only four hours. 

But maybe, if I lucked into hundreds of millions of dollars, I would treat myself to flying first class. That is my temptation, and I find myself looking for justification. I could tell myself that I might be seated next to someone with money to spend on not being a sardine jammed into a narrow tube. I could mention how important SOU is. Maybe that passenger would be persuaded by my sincere appreciation of the lives changed by the university, and they would put SOU on their contribution list. So, I wouldn't be selfish after all. I would be on a prospecting mission on behalf of SOU, a worthy project.

Whew.  I have figured it out.  

Next time the Megabucks number gets big, I will buy a lottery ticket. It would be good to win. 

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