Powerball fever hit the nation, in fact, hit several nations, as I understand Canadians were streaming over the border to purchase tickets, too. With the chance of winning over one billion dollars, why not? That's too much money for the average person to even imagine. I had one of those heart-stopping moments of hope in the early morning hours yesterday when I saw that one of the three big-time winners was from Chino Hills, California. I moved to Sacramento from Chino nearly 35 years ago, before there was a Chino Hills. When I left, Chino had just put in a second stop light on the main drag in that little sheep and dairy cattle town. We had lived six miles out of town, with nothing but corn fields and ranches in between. With the progress of time, the town has undoubtedly grown and Chino Hills became a city unto itself (the Kids' dad was, at one time, the mayor of Chino Hills), but it's still a pretty rural place and doesn't take up much room on the map. The point of all this is the fact that my son, Pete, and grandson, Jake, live in Chino Hills now. Was 4:30 too early to call and find out if Pete was a winner? Wouldn't that be way past wonderful? Especially after the bad fortune of having his car wrecked at Thanksgiving, he was due for some good luck. I'd held the good thought for all of the Kids and would have been just as thrilled if the broadcast had said Woodland, West Sacramento, Citrus Heights, or South Sacramento, but just the thought that it could be.... Ah, well. Close, but no cigar.
Personally, I considered myself lucky to have avoided several downpours yesterday, catching a break and getting back to the house minutes before the skies sprang big leaks. I'd been this close to getting drenched. I guess it's all in one's perspective.