I’m not much of a gambler. That being said, with the Powerball expected to reach over a billion dollars — that’s billion … with a “B” — coughed up two bucks to throw my name in the hat.
A girl can dream.
I read something interesting about the odds. Statistically, the chances of you buying the winning ticket are roughly the same as you finding the winning ticket on the street. They’re that long. So why have millions of Americans (myself included) suddenly succumbed to “Powerball fever?”
Because someone’s gotta win, right? Why not me?
Well, I can tell you that if I do happen to have the golden ticket stuck to my refrigerator, this will be the last column of mine you ever read. I’d like to say that I would continue working, but the truth is, I’d be long gone. With those kind of resources, I seriously doubt my family and I would stay in the country, let alone South Carolina.
My husband and I would take care of our parents, brothers and their children. Our own boys would be set for life. Close friends, aunts and cousins? Well, it is a billion dollars, I suppose generosity is in order. Third cousin twice removed on your grandmother’s side of the family? Sorry dude, you’re on your own. Gotta draw the line somewhere …
I like the idea of buying an old farmhouse. Something with a lot of land, at least four bedrooms and no neighbors as far as the eye can see. I’d have a couple of horses again, because I miss riding and a pond that my boys can fish in when they’re older. I’d have wall to wall built-in bookcases in my living room and butcher-block counter tops in my kitchen.
I’d probably buy a new car, which sounds like an extravagance to me, but as my current ride has around 250K miles on it, I’m due. I think I’d like a Subaru …
My husband would probably buy season tickets to the Gamecocks but I have a feeling that I’d probably have to talk him down from a lot of things. Although he’d disagree, when it comes to money I’m more practical than he is — he’d want a yacht for our little imaginary pond by the farmhouse when a row-boat would do.
I’m sure we would donate to charity, probably something to help special needs kids and their families and I like the idea of starting some kind of foundation in my son Ben’s name to help people with Autism.
Basically, I would spend my time with my family and have the opportunity to travel and show my kids the world. Sounds pretty good to me.
I’m not naive enough to believe that money itself that makes you happy. Of course it doesn’t. Money is just little pieces of green paper. It’s what having money affords you: peace of mind, security and the freedom to truly live your life the way you want to.
One of my favorite comedians once said “They say money can’t buy happiness, but it can buy a jet-ski. Have you ever seen someone sad on a jet-ski?”
No. No, you haven’t.
Kasie Strickland is a staff writer for The Easley Progress, The Pickens Sentinel and Powdersville Post and can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org. Views expressed in this column are those of the writer only and do not represent the newspaper’s opinion.