A couple of weeks ago I bought a Georgia lottery ticket and didn’t win a dime. As usual. But the Mega Millions jackpot — reported to be in the $200 million range — had grown so ridiculously large I couldn’t help myself. Visions of a charmed life danced in my head like sugar plum fairies. I would travel the world, aid financially strapped family members and friends, donate liberally to dozens of worthy causes, and quietly live the rest of my life as rich as the mythical King Croesus, or his modern-day equivalent, Warren Buffett.
Admit it, you’ve indulged in similar fantasies. I’m most prone to them when the balance in my checking account dwindles to three figures, which it does these days at least twice a month. That probably explains why the Georgia Lottery Corp. recently reported rising profits of $215 million for the first quarter of fiscal year 2010. In other words, I’m not the only one having pipe dreams these days.
Make no mistake, the Georgia lottery serves a laudable purpose. Over the past 16 years, HOPE scholarships have helped fund the educational aspirations of more than a million young people. Without HOPE, some of them might never have seen the inside of a college classroom. And since I spend a good portion of my time in college classrooms, I’m all for that. The aspirations of young people ought to be synonymous with hope.
But here’s the thing about the lottery. While I was buying my ticket in a Tucker convenience store, the man next to me at an adjacent register was buying them in bulk. He had a wad big enough to choke a horse, and the dispenser was still spitting them out when I left. I had a feeling something other than altruism motivated him to spend that kind of money on a game of chance with incredibly long odds.
If you’re like me, you don’t spend your paycheck on lottery tickets when the Mega Millions jackpot climbs into the stratosphere. But there are those among us who apparently don’t know when to say when. Their visions of a charmed life must be more potent than mine, or maybe they’re just more desperate than me. Perhaps they need to find the nearest chapter of Gamblers Anonymous.
I would like to think we don’t need the lure of fabulous wealth to pony up for a cause as worthy as the education of our children. But I could be wrong. And each time the balance in my bank account threatens to reach a new low, I find it easier to decide that now is not a good time to address a charitable need. I’ve turned down the pleas of more than a few worthy causes, having erroneously convinced myself that I had become one.
As for that humongous Mega Millions jackpot, you must know that someone matched all the numbers and is now in possession of a fortune worthy of Croesus. It wasn’t me. Nor was it the man who seemed to think that a wad of tickets was better than one. Although he was contributing to a worthy cause, I fear his family may have had needs that went unmet that week.
Rick Diguette, a resident of DeKalb County for more than 20 years, teaches at Georgia Perimeter College.
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