Long ago, in a galaxy far away . . . no, back up. Just the long ago part. I'll start again. Long ago, in fact when I was in my last year of high school, my first career choice was journalism. I went as far as applying to the journalism program in my local college. Of course, knowing nothing about how these things worked, I duly showed up for my admission interview, all smiles, no clue. I still recall a key aspect. Unexpectedly, I was asked to write a summary of a recent newspaper story. Any recent newspaper story. This was when everyone subscribed to one of the two local newspapers.
At age eighteen this was not something I had thought to prepare for. I wracked my brains for worthy details but alas I must confess that I had skipped right over the world affairs section and the current economic news to read, in reasonable depth, a column to do with barnyard fowls--either chickens or turkeys. The turkey part is apt because I fumbled my way on the keyboard to produce a brief and inept version of the article.
I didn't get into the program.
We've all had those experiences. The job we didn't get . . . or take, the man we didn't marry, the house we didn't buy. Sometimes, years later, we can become melancholy with the thought of the loss but other times it's Phew! Dodged that bullet.