Andy Young

Last month I attended a trio of funerals, each of which honored an extraordinary person who, if life span was based on kindness or merit, would have been granted significantly more Earthly time.

The departures of that triumvirate provided further verification that bad things do indeed come in threes. That well-known theorem has been accepted as fact ever since it was first uttered publicly by Confucius, Nostradamus, Ben Franklin, Will Rogers, Dorothy Parker, the person who patented Murphy’s Law, or whichever sage, wag, or scoundrel it was who thought to jot it down for posterity.

Here’s a little-known fact: this theorem’s converse is equally legitimate; favorable occurrences often come in threes as well. People just don’t notice and/or appreciate good fortune as much as they bemoan hardship, which is a shame.

My acceptance of the “Bad Things come in Threes” truism helped me get through a series of misfortunes recently.

Until it didn’t.

When some dental work set me back a considerable sum (and when I was subsequently informed me I’d be needing five similar such procedures, each at the same exorbitant price as the one I’d just undergone), I winced, but then shrugged it off as merely part of the price of continued existence, noting ruefully that the families of my three recently-departed friends would gladly have chosen paying for functional choppers over arranging a memorial service. I also braced myself for whatever was coming next.

I didn’t have to wait long. When the furnace man who came by for routine maintenance reported that a little extra work would be required, I sighed, just hoping the damage would come to less than four figures on the left side of the decimal point. (It did, but just barely.) The third inconvenience in the series befell me the very same day, when a gentleman I had engaged to fix a couple of long-standing electrical issues with my house did so, albeit at considerable cost (though not nearly as much as the furnace or ongoing dental work). But as I wrote out the check to the electrician I felt an immense weight lift from my shoulders, since I knew for a fact my troubles, at least for the foreseeable future, were over.

Until the cable on the garage door snapped. The timing of that unfortunate and unduly expensive event was not only at odds with my belief in the “Rule of Three,” it shook my long-held conviction in karma, or more specifically that eventually good things happen to good people, while adversity, setbacks, and ultimately cataclysm befall only those whose myriad misdeeds entitle them to the sorts of disadvantage, disappointment, and discomfort they so richly deserve. And while I may have been guilty of a minor transgression from time to time (Okay; I removed more pennies from the loose change tray at the grocery store than I contributed in fiscal 2018), a thorough soul-searching revealed no tangible reason why I had been beset by such undeserved hardship.

I should never have doubted fate.

Two rainy afternoons (a redundancy this spring) later, a young man who had taken a course I taught two years ago stopped by my classroom shortly after school the school day had ended and presented me with a hand-written note. It was entirely in Spanish, but roughly translated it expressed his appreciation of my efforts on his and his peers’ behalf. That and his smile were more than enough to make me forget all about the garage door, and whatever those other trifles I had been worrying about were.

But it gets better. Five minutes after his departure another young fellow asked if he could speak with me for a moment, and when I didn’t object he introduced himself, then explained he had been authorized by the senior class to ask if I would consider being the faculty speaker at this year’s commencement ceremonies. Quickly checking the calendar to make sure it wasn’t April 1, I told him I’d be honored to do so, provided I didn’t have to pay too much for the privilege.

So now I have to come up with some suitable thoughts for the occasion, which means articulating ideas that are meaningful, memorable and useful to not only our school’s 172 prospective graduates, but to several hundred other attendees (including three or more generations of their families) as well. Oh, and my words mustn’t offend anyone, and their delivery can’t take more than ten minutes.

As June 9 approaches I’m looking forward to meeting this daunting challenge nearly as much as I’m eagerly anticipating that third bit of utterly random good fortune, which I’m convinced is waiting around some nearby corner for me!