The Gambler

When I left my job in 2005, a friend made me a CD with all sorts of songs about change. One of them is The Gambler. I've been listening to this CD since the day I received it, and never once has The Gambler choked me up. Yesterday I was a wreckage zone listening to The Gambler. Yep, I'm referring to the Kenny Rogers song. You might be sitting there confused (much as I was) about why I would get choked up over The Gambler, for heaven's sake.

The lyrics to The Gambler:
You got to know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em,
Know when to walk away and know when to run.
You never count your money when youre sittin' at the table.
There'll be time enough for countin' when the dealin's done.

Now every gambler knows that the secret to survivin'
Is knowing what to throw away and knowing what to keep.
cause every hand's a winner and every hand's a loser,
And the best that you can hope for is to die in your sleep.

So I got to thinking - in previous years, Jim and I have pretty much known when to hold 'em and when to fold 'em. But what in the world are we supposed to do with this hand? Let me tell you that we were not expecting the cancer card. If every hand's a winner, and every hand's a loser, then we have to stay in, bluff to the end, and pull an ace out of somewhere. We can turn this hand into a winner. I just know it.

It's not like we've made a series of stellar choices over the years, but I think we've made some pretty big leaps of faith. We've bluffed our way through a few tough times. We've done all sorts of fun things, traveled all over the world, and we took probably the biggest gamble of our lives - having kids. Each time, we've come out ahead. Sometimes I worry - when will it catch up with us? Are we just running three seconds ahead of disaster or can we bluff our way out of this one, too?

In 11 years of marriage, I don't think we've accumulated even an ante's worth of regret. Looking back, we didn't say no to any opportunity that could have resulted in a positive experience for us. If the best that we can hope for is to die in our sleep (as the lyrics indicate), then that's what I want. But I don't want Jim dying in his sleep until he's 90. Or me for that matter! I want him to have the chance to have more, play another hand, and see this game through to the very end. I hate the feeling of scrambling to fix things. Where will we get that ace? We're partners. I want us walking (or running, as the case may be) from the table together.

Sigh. I don't think we're supposed to be reading so much into The Gambler. Double down on 11. Oh no, that's blackjack.