We seem to have two kinds of luck.  One is bad luck, which is the kind that is pretty much out of our control.  The other is dumb luck, which is the kind of bad luck which is totally of our own making.

Here’s an example of “bad luck”:  At a restaurant, you’re placed beside a couple with their four demon spawn who are merely “expressing themselves”.  That is bad luck.

Here’s an example of “dumb luck”:  My lovely first wife is trying on a pair of pants while I’m half paying attention.  She asks me the question all men hate to be asked:  “Do these pants make me look fat?”  I try to hide the fact that I really wasn’t paying any attention with my usual feeble attempt at humor.  So, I reply, “Is this a trick question?”  Result:  Randy’s in the dog house again!  That’s dumb luck.

And then there are times when things aren’t always as they seem.

When I was in my early, pre-driving teens growing up in Glendale, Arizona, about 90 percent of my neighborhood was still under construction.  My dad would let me drive his ’63 Chevy Impala around the neighborhood . . . all by myself!  While any parent wouldn’t dream of allowing a kid to do that today, it was relatively harmless in those days and especially in that neighborhood.

One day, a man came to our house and wanted to speak with my dad.  He then proceeded to tell my dad that I stole a ten speed bicycle from their yard.  He knew this because his neighbors told them that I had taken it and put it in the trunk of dad’s Impala.  He then led us to his house and showed us the tire tracks in the dirt beside his house (somehow proving that the bike was stolen).  One of my sharp-eyed friends piped up and said, “Hey! Those are knobby tire tread marks, not ten-speed tires!”  End of story . . . or so I thought.

One night shortly after that false accusation, I woke up in the middle of the night with a bright light shining in my face.  When I was finally fully awake, I realized that I had been sleeping on the couch and the street light in front of the house was shining through the living room window, waking me up.  The thing was, I had gone to sleep in my own bed a few hours earlier.  It was apparent that I had slept walked from my bedroom to the couch.

I began to seriously doubt my own innocence regarding the stolen bike accusation.  I was actually beginning to convince myself that I quite possibly stole that guy’s bike in my sleep! It took my parents several days of near constant reassurance that I couldn’t possibly have stolen that mans bike. 

What’s the moral of this story?  Many of us have been convinced of things about ourselves because of a series of circumstances.  You may have been convinced that you aren’t very smart and, as a result, never pursued that college education that you always wanted.  Maybe you were told that you couldn’t sing or play a particular instrument.  Or, perhaps you were led to believe that you aren’t a very handsome or pretty person.  During the entire time, there wasn’t ever a person that dared to speak up and tell you otherwise. 

Look at the evidence that begs to differ with what you’ve come to believe.  Look at those tire tracks of life that everyone else told you proved that you couldn’t do something or that you looked less than desirable.  Begin to look at the evidence under a brighter light in order to see that “you” are actually someone who can do or be what you want to do or be. 

Don’t let anyone tell you that you can’t or aren’t!

Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you something else.  About a month or two after my parents convinced me that I didn’t steal that bike in my sleep, I spotted a Chevy Impala, nearly identical to Dad’s, parked in front of my accusers home.  Hmmm.