Partly Sunny

I was under the distinct impression that good fortune wasn't in the cards for me. I'm fairly certain I adopted this notion at birth--when my twin sister emerged from my mother with a flawless complexion, perhaps the most symmetrical face known to mankind, and the accomplishment of her first smile within minutes of her time on this earth. I, on the other hand, had been strangled by the umbilical cord and proved to be the reason she needed the big slice that still resides on her stomach today. I'm still not certain she's forgiven me for that.

Sure, I'm sure that many would call me a pessimist--and on my more mature days--I might even be inclined to agree with that speculation. But today--just as I was contemplating my most unfortunate luck, I glanced across at the newspaper and spotted an obituary. It was for Fred Hayworth, who had been the town bully for as long as I could remember--decades in fact. Fred never grew out of being mean. For many years, he made my life a living hell--and here I was thinking that cruelty had an expiration date, that perhaps it died with your childhood.

Fred was the exception--a grumpy old grouch until the end. As it turns out, he was standing in the middle of Main Street, yelling obscenities at the morbidly obese Wally Trumbo, when it happened--just like that. He was struck down by the Good Humor ice cream truck Wally was flagging down.

I put down the newspaper and couldn't help but smile. I suppose first impressions aren't always what they seem to be.