All the wishbones I pulled as a child, never fruitful.

The cigarettes, lottery tickets, and beer I’d be sent to the corner store for, and of course the unemployment checks brought to pay for it all.

Photo by Heather Gill on Unsplash

A roll of the dice; a pull of the slot machine, and everything would change for us. My dad consistently preached these strategies with his Irish brogue, in between three to five-day visits to Atlantic City.

“Oh, well,” he would reassuringly promise each night after the pretty lady announced the winning lottery numbers. “Tomorrow we’ll get it!”

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