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Crossing stories
Why can't I be the Lone Ranger?
It was the summer of ’49. A hot day, too hot to play
ball. The front stoop of our first floor apartment overlooking B Street
was a good place for a twelve-year-old to idle away the heat. A cool
place, even though nothing exciting was going on.
Suddenly, with horns a-tooting, several cars came cruising down the
street. As they came closer, I recognized the Lone Ranger in one
convertible. He was riding to the National Guard Armory for the evening
show. At last, some excitement on a boringly hot day in the ’hood.
More exciting to my twelve-year-old mentality were the two very attractive
ladies on either side of him. Nothing lonely about the Lone Ranger, it
seemed to me. I had always been impressed with the Lone Ranger, with Tonto
by his side. But this Lone Ranger with two beautiful ladies instead of
Tonto was far more impressive. And it set me thinking . . .
What would it be like to hold the stature of the Lone Ranger, I wondered?
Why was I the one sitting on the stoop, watching, while he was enjoying
the good life? What would it take for me to be the Lone Ranger? What must
I do? Or was it simply the luck of the draw?
At that young age, it seemed that luck played a huge part. I remember
thinking that success was but the luck of the draw and that I might as
well resign myself to my status quo – unlucky me sitting on my stoop
watching some other lucky bastard rode in a convertible with two, not one,
but two beautiful women.
But the image of the Lone Ranger and his two side-kicks would not fade. I
wanted that. At least, I wanted more than just the stoop on “B” street. I
wanted to be lucky, even if I had to create some luck. (Maybe I could
commit to learn how to draw faster so that I did not have to rely on the
luck of the draw.)
And that’s how it happened for me. Over the years, I came to recognize
that in order to be successful, luck was only a minor element. One needed
to get into a position to have luck. I needed to unblock whatever stopped
me creating my own luck.
Looking back, I think that the day the Lone Ranger tooted past was the day
I left B Street in my mind. I’ve been quite lucky ever since.
Dr Wally (Dr Wallace R.
Johnston)
March 2007
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story: One senseless murder too many
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