Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?

Winning Big, a Powerful Incentive

Whenever our jackpot climbs into the stratosphere, I do periodically splurge to buy a ticket. Why? I know it is just plain folly, but I think of it as a voluntary tax that will contribute to a new arena in some remote community. Like millions of fellow gamblers, the thought of running to the bank with my very own pot of gold is intoxicating. Unlike the smug woman in one of the ads who tucks her purchased ticket into her bra, and taps her breast for good luck, I hide mine in my wallet until the big draw. It is safer there than being forgotten in a desk drawer until after expiry date, especially if it had happened to be the winning ticket.

The odds makers calculate that one has about the same chance of winning either the 649 or Lotto Max as being killed by a shark, or being snuffed out by a bolt of lightning. At bedtime, I sometimes fantasize as to how l will spend the winnings after jumping for joy upon checking my lucky ticket. I settle down to decide how I should spend the windfall. My very first thoughts are always the same, but not what most people would expect. They don’t entail buying a sleek private jet, a multi-million-dollar yacht, a cattle ranch in Alberta, a mansion on my own a private island in cottage country, or an extravagant winter retreat in Aruba. They always seem to centre around how I am going to split this windfall fairly with my children, grandchildren, and close relatives, as well as the charity that would benefit from my largesse. Strangely, imaginings are never about how I am going to start living like a multimillionaire. And then I wonder. What is the point of winning all this money if I am so focused on giving it away?

My bedtime ramblings are telling me something that I intuitively already know. I don’t need the money. I enjoy a comfortable life. I have a supportive family, close friends, absorbing hobbies, sufficient income, a house that I like, an old car that still runs like a top, and no debts. Short winter holidays, to destinations of my choice, satisfy my need for a little adventure. Owning a jet plane, a fast boat, or a huge mansion in cottage country has never been part of my lifestyle, and certainly not part of my dreams. I am not a farmer, and so what would I do with a 3,000-acre cattle ranch nestled in the foothills of the Rockies?

Country living, however, has always greatly appealed to me, because I have lived half my life in rural Ontario. I might just splurge and spend several million to buy an elegant, secluded country retreat beside a babbling brook on 25 acres of land somewhere close to town.