What Cards Have You Been Dealt?

One of psychologists' standard bromides is, "You have to play the cards you have been dealt." This follows another standard: "The life you had planned is not the life you got. You have to live the life you got." This all seems clever and, I think, semi-useful, but it leaves the receiver hanging: So, now that I know that, what do I do? It brings to mind the other, all-purpose observation: Retirement (or old age) ain't for sissies! After all this sort of thing, I find I know very little more about how to take on the challenges presented by these days of spouse sickness; plenty of money to spend but nothing to spend it on besides medical juju; long, empty days in limbo; and just plain ennui. So I thought I would look more carefully at the cards I have been dealt.

The Ace is easy: My timing was good in my date of birth, through no effort of my own. I do believe that the years since the mid 1930s have been unique, an apogee of mankind where self-reliance and individualism flourished along with a neighborly network (government) that was still working for citizens rather than self-preservation.

The Queen is also easy: I married one—the homecoming queen of 1957. And I lived happily ever after...even though the current, golden years are regularly wrenching.

Next, the Jack of all trades: There has been no end to opportunities over the last sixty years. "Health, wealth, love, and the time to enjoy it." That was the toast made by my bride (speaking in Spanish) at our wedding reception. And it has been reality for us for over fifty years.

How about the Ten, the Ten of Hearts? The ten is something of a mixed bag even though it is still a high-value card. I think it could represent decision points, down times, or even peak experiences, all of which accumulate for us over the years and, hopefully, form a rich mosaic that is more bright than dreary, happy than sad. We can chat about the Ten more, later.

The low card is a Three of Hearts. In the dealt hand the Three represents the time when the wheels come off the wagon, the mast breaks on the sailboat, the trajectory of life is interrupted by uncontrollable diseases or personal system failures, or some other tsunami hits and turns life inside out, upside down. What does one do when dealt a Three, even a Three of Hearts?

Looking at the hand above, any poker player will recognize some alternatives. The holder of the hand has at least a Flush—all hearts—that may be a winning hand at the table of life. So, he or she can hold—live with the hand received. Or, perhaps he or she can draw a new card in hopes of exchanging the Three for a King of Hearts, which would make a Royal Flush, a hand that can't be beat. Or the holder can fold—toss in the cards and stop playing. Give up. Game over.

As singer Kenny Rogers put it in his song, The Gambler, "...you have to know when to hold, know when to fold, know when to walk away and know when to run." But he doesn't say when.