No disrespect to believers of fate and destiny, but realistically life is a game of playing the odds. Of hoping things play out in your favor. Of hoping you live a long, healthy life rather than fall victim to back luck or misfortune.
I suspect we’ve all survived a close brush with death. The time your mom grabbed a bottle of poison from your baby hands; when a speeding car ran a red light in front of you; a busted appendix. But our end was not meant to come yet.
So far, my family and I are luckily beating the odds. Though there is never a reason to take this for granted.
- My daughter Becca and her husband Scott live in Las Vegas and work at the Wynn Hotel, which is just down the Strip from the Route 91 Harvest Festival (“1 October”), the horrific scene of the nation’s deadliest mass shooting.
- On September 11, 2001, my son Zac was living in New York City, four city blocks from the World Trade Center and the nation’s most devastating and deadliest terrorist attack.
- My own less-infamous near-death experiences included two major car accidents and too many reckless childhood stunts — the dumbest of which featured a homemade “rocket” powered by a firecracker with a delayed fuse and ended with a metal plate covering a hole in my head.
Point being, with all of life’s uncertainties, the best you can do is keep playing and double-down on the good hands at every opportunity.