July 23, 2005 at 9:17 AM

Fortune Cookies

George and I eat Chinese often--perhaps too much. When a good restaurant is just a mile away, and a knowledgeable chef is ready to prepare fresh vegetables and meat at a price that easily makes it worth not having to shop and cook for ourselves, why not grab a bite or two, or three, now and then.

It has been the tradition that whenever the meal is over and the waitress brings us our fortune cookies, we follow the unwritten fortune protocol: Always take the cookie nearest you. Always eat the first half before reading the fortune. If you would like the fortune to come true, then eat the second half of the cookie.

Before I proceed with the story, I would like to insert a little disclaimer. I live by certain laws and principles that govern my thinking, that supposedly leave no room for superstition or luck. I'm pretty sure fortune telling is on the "no" list as well (although that doesn't mean it couldn't happen). However, at the same time, in choosing to believe in such things as Providence and miracles, I find that my mind becomes more open to concepts that aren't necessarily explained away by the scientific method. Don't get me wrong, science and reason are pretty solid legs on which to base one's construct of life. So, I use reason, logic, and scientific method, all on a solid base of biblical principles, and for the little happenings that defy explanation and hint at loftier realms than my narrow understanding of life, well, I attribute those things to magic. After all, life is more interesting when you allow for magic every once in a while.

So, we read our fortunes to each other. Sometimes, the little script in the shell reads much like a horoscope--vague, universally applicable, and uncommitted to future prophecy. Sometimes, the words leave enough room for interpretation so that my dog or my grandma would fit the bill. Many times, we insist that the fortunes reached the wrong fingers. We laugh at the irony of some of the fortunes, think of all the possible interpretations, and leave the messages on the table without another thought.

My favorites are the ones that tell me what I want to hear. These are the ones I tuck away in my wallet to smile at later. For a while, I had an uncanny theme that recurred over the space of a couple of months: "Your name will be famous in the future." "You will find fame and recognition." "Your talents will be recognised and suitably rewarded." Isn't that happy news to any musician? Every time I read one of those, I remember my ambitions as a youngster, when I never once doubted that I was going to be famous one day. What gave me that idea, anyway? I'd given up on the whole pursuit of fame back in college, but that doesn't mean that I don't ever think about it. So, those fortunes stay just behind my ATM cards and in front of my cash.

Tonight, the summer camp menu listed ham as the main course, and although ham can be quite tasty sometimes, it does wear a little thin after seven Fridays in a row. I ordered Chinese. Chinese, like Italian, never gets old. I remembered that when picking up orders to go, I have to make sure there's also a fortune cookie in the sack. There wasn't, so I had the waitress open the cookie bag so I could pick one for the road.

Later, with Vegetables Delux rumbling along in my belly and fishing tackle in hand, I remembered the cookie. In a rush, I cracked the corners apart and ate both halves at once, nearly swallowing the paper as well. Darn it, I guess this one's going to have to come true whether I like it or not. For some reason, I got a sinking feeling. I plucked the dry paper from between my lips and chewed. Suddenly, I had no strength to swallow.

"You will visit a faraway land that has been in your thoughts."

I never should have made that promise to myself to go back, all those years ago.

From Pauline Lerner
Posted on July 24, 2005 at 1:53 AM

Emily, I got scared when I read this. Are you thinking seriously about going back to that hell-hole? Would it be sufficient to confront your bad memories in your head? It would be very difficult, but also therapeutic.

From Jim W. Miller
Posted on July 24, 2005 at 2:25 AM

The Dead Kennedys have a lot to say about this in Holiday in Cambodia.

This entry has been archived and is no longer accepting comments.

July 23, 2005 at 9:17 AM

Subscribe

Laurie's Books