By Andy Young
Recently while in the midst of yet another abortive attempt to de-clutterize my living space, I picked up a piggy bank I found hidden under some old shirts in the back of a seldom-opened drawer. However, when I shook it, I didn’t hear coins jingling, but rather paper rustling. I briefly found myself hoping I had stumbled onto a cache of $20 bills I had squirreled away and forgotten about some years before, but it turned out what was producing the noise was something even more valuable: a veritable gold mine of good fortune!
Or, more accurately, good fortunes. Seventy-nine of them, in fact. Years (or perhaps decades) ago I began saving the messages from inside the cookies my dinner companions and I polished off after finishing our Chinese takeout.
Sadly though, not every fortune comes to fruition. For example, one that said, “August will bring you financial success,” has yet to do me much good, although to be fair, it didn’t specify in which year I’d be moving up a tax bracket or two. Other date-specific messages included, “An exciting opportunity will knock on your door this Friday,” “An act of kindness on a Saturday will have a ripple effect,” and “Your career will take a positive turn in April.”
If you eat enough fortune cookies, it’s inevitable you’ll start getting some repeat messages. For example, I have two separate fortunes that declare, “A secret admirer will soon send you a sign of affection.” I’m not sure which one to believe: the one printed in red ink or the one in blue, so I logically kept both of them. I also have two fortunes that say, “August will bring you unexpected surprises.” But that one doesn’t really excite me, because really, aren’t all surprises unexpected?
I’m convinced some people who write those fortunes are moonlighting from their regular job of authoring the daily horoscope that runs in newspapers. I swear I’ve read “The time is right to make new friends, “This is the month that ingenuity stands high on the list,” and “Your hard work will lead to greater happiness” before; the only question is which of the 12 signs of the zodiac these generic lines were written about.
Evidently some amateur philosophers are employed as fortune providers. Anyone who can write, “There is no cosmetic for beauty like happiness,” “It is easier to fight for principles than it is to live up to them,” or “Those who love rumors hate a peaceful life,” clearly possesses insightfulness that many of the rest of us do not.
It’s also likely that some folks who currently churn out fortunes for a living aspire to be comedy writers. That would explain, “Don’t worry about the world coming to an end; it’s already tomorrow in Australia,” “A clear conscience is usually the sign of a bad memory,” and “Oops……Wrong cookie.”
Some fortunes just defy explanation, like, “You are the mast of every situation.” The author of that one is probably still learning English. The same goes for whoever wrote “Une personne que vous connaissez attend votre louange.” Fortunately. that one had a translation on the back (“Someone you know is waiting for your praise”).
I’m not sure if keeping those fortunes guarantee that they’ll come true, but throwing them out would almost certainly negate whatever magic they might possess. Those tiny pieces of paper aren’t taking up much space, and who knows, maybe one of these days a secret admirer will send me a sign of affection, in either red or blue ink.
That would be most delightful.
Not to mention, an unexpected surprise. <
Sadly though, not every fortune comes to fruition. For example, one that said, “August will bring you financial success,” has yet to do me much good, although to be fair, it didn’t specify in which year I’d be moving up a tax bracket or two. Other date-specific messages included, “An exciting opportunity will knock on your door this Friday,” “An act of kindness on a Saturday will have a ripple effect,” and “Your career will take a positive turn in April.”
If you eat enough fortune cookies, it’s inevitable you’ll start getting some repeat messages. For example, I have two separate fortunes that declare, “A secret admirer will soon send you a sign of affection.” I’m not sure which one to believe: the one printed in red ink or the one in blue, so I logically kept both of them. I also have two fortunes that say, “August will bring you unexpected surprises.” But that one doesn’t really excite me, because really, aren’t all surprises unexpected?
I’m convinced some people who write those fortunes are moonlighting from their regular job of authoring the daily horoscope that runs in newspapers. I swear I’ve read “The time is right to make new friends, “This is the month that ingenuity stands high on the list,” and “Your hard work will lead to greater happiness” before; the only question is which of the 12 signs of the zodiac these generic lines were written about.
Evidently some amateur philosophers are employed as fortune providers. Anyone who can write, “There is no cosmetic for beauty like happiness,” “It is easier to fight for principles than it is to live up to them,” or “Those who love rumors hate a peaceful life,” clearly possesses insightfulness that many of the rest of us do not.
It’s also likely that some folks who currently churn out fortunes for a living aspire to be comedy writers. That would explain, “Don’t worry about the world coming to an end; it’s already tomorrow in Australia,” “A clear conscience is usually the sign of a bad memory,” and “Oops……Wrong cookie.”
Some fortunes just defy explanation, like, “You are the mast of every situation.” The author of that one is probably still learning English. The same goes for whoever wrote “Une personne que vous connaissez attend votre louange.” Fortunately. that one had a translation on the back (“Someone you know is waiting for your praise”).
I’m not sure if keeping those fortunes guarantee that they’ll come true, but throwing them out would almost certainly negate whatever magic they might possess. Those tiny pieces of paper aren’t taking up much space, and who knows, maybe one of these days a secret admirer will send me a sign of affection, in either red or blue ink.
That would be most delightful.
Not to mention, an unexpected surprise. <
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