Winning Ticket

Emmett won his first raffle last Friday. The prize: a laundry basket filled with cars and trucks, and puzzles and games of a related theme. It was a monster pick. The raffle was sponsored at Jackson's elementary school, so there was a swarm of hopeful kids in and outside the library when the principal called out Emmett's name.

I didn't expect to win anything because we had been through this drill twice before in years past. I was sitting in the cafeteria with a friend when a mother raced around the corner and hollered the winning news. Taking the prize basket and negotiating my way back to my seat, I felt like a scantily clad woman suddenly dropped in the midst of maximum security prisoners. Lifers. These kids, and their parents too, stared at me like I was a grade A prime cut of meat. Who am I kidding though? I had to refrain from sticking my tongue out and chanting nanny, nanny billy goat!

Suddenly Emmett was a celebrity. Every kid his age has a built-in urge to fit in and play with the older kids, and the older kids know it. Thank goodness I was there to supervise. There were some duplicate Matchbox cars that I allowed him to give away to one of Jackson's friends. Other kids I didn't even know were begging to "borrow" certain items, like a little Hot Wheelz scooter (if you can believe it). The kid's mother put the kibosh on that. It's hard to imagine a parent that wouldn't, but such do exist in shockingly large numbers, parents that can't bear to tell their little angel no.

The experience reminded me of the time when Jackson was Emmett's age. We were at Marine World in Vallejo, California. It was one of those low-probability games where you purchase a bucket of plastic rings and try to loop them over the top of a bottle. It seems easy at first because of the sheer size of the tightly packed grid of bottles. We had nearly gone through the entire bucket, and Jackson wanted to throw the last one. He over-handed it, a fast ball right down the middle, and it stuck as if he had thrown a dart. The prize was an enormous red Chihuahua dog, which I had to carry to the car in the parking lot far far away. Same thing, all the people staring and I thinking eat your heart out, as if this monstrosity I held aloft was the Holy Grail.

There is just something about winning a thing that makes it special. It's attached to the end of an inexhaustible string, a tether that leads across time to wherever and whenever you are.