Essayist Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, “There is always a reason for good or bad fortune … good luck is another name for tenacity of purpose.”
For working folks, if having enough money to support their families is regarded as good fortune, then not having enough is bad fortune.
In 1993, fortune, that fickle femme fatale, ignored my two decades of working to build a career and support a family, and left me bankrupt. I fell into bad fortune — no job, and no way to support those depending on me.
My bad fortune got worse. The bank repossessed my beloved truck, Loretta, and I had to walk to and from the most miserable job I could find: working the graveyard shift as a convenience store cashier.
Fortunately, Mama scraped together enough money to pay off the bank loan, and I got Loretta back. Unfortunately, she wasn’t in top shape. Her tires were worn, and one had a slow leak, requiring me to over-inflate it daily to avoid a flat.
One dreary morning, after the day-shift lady, Vivian, took my place behind the counter, I ambled out to my truck, and while inflating the tire, spotted a wad of bills on the ground — $94!
I started to stuff the dough in my pocket, but realized the owner might be looking for it. The least I could do was ask Vivian if she knew who might have lost it.
“It probably belongs to the guy who came in before you and paid for a six-pack of beer with a $100 bill. I saw him stop at the air pump before leaving. If he can afford to waste money on beer, he don’t need it much as you do.”
Satisfied that I had done the right thing, I used the money to buy a tire.
Though I didn’t realize it at the time, that dab of good fortune restored in me what Emerson called tenacity of purpose. I resolved to do whatever was necessary to climb out of my miserable morass.
Several farm magazines had given me freelance writing assignments in the past, and I began hounding them for more work. A trickle of jobs became steady, and Lady Fortune took note of my resolve. A publishing company offered me an editorial position. “However, the job only pays $30,000 a year,” the interviewer warned.
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He might as well have said a million. For a guy subsisting on six bucks an hour, what he offered was a fortune. From lying flat on my back, defeated and hopeless, I reentered what life is: a race.
A poem by D. H. Grober entitled “The Race” tells of a runner who, despite several falls, won the contest — in his own heart and those of the spectators — simply by finishing. One stanza sums up the runner’s experience … and mine:
For all of life is like that race,
With ups and downs and all.
And all you have to do to win,
Is rise each time you fall.
Jimmy Reed is an Oxford, Mississippi resident, Ole Miss and Delta State University alumnus, Vietnam Era Army Veteran, former Mississippi Delta cotton farmer and ginner, author, and retired college teacher.
This story is a selection from Jimmy Reed’s latest book, entitled The Jaybird Tales.
Copies, including personalized autographs, can be reserved by notifying the author via email (.(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)).
Essayist Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, “There is always a reason for good or bad fortune … good luck is another name for tenacity of purpose.”
For working folks, if having enough money to support their families is regarded as good fortune, then not having enough is bad fortune.
In 1993, fortune, that fickle femme fatale, ignored my two decades of working to build a career and support a family, and left me bankrupt. I fell into bad fortune — no job, and no way to support those depending on me. 
