The Gambler

 

yellow velvet cape hanging  in folds from his shoulder, the rapier at his side. The

 

bugle in his hand held against his right thigh. The folds in his soft boots

 

against his legs it was agnificent,But best of all, his fierce look of disdain as he

 

looked at me.His thin lips under a thick moustache, curled in contempt.

 

Oh,   D’artagnon  my hero, I know now how dashing  Dumas’  `Three

 

Musketeers’” really looked. I loved it. I bought  it. It was expensive,

 

but it was mine! But that’s not all.     The painting contained the name `F.

 

Roybet. I investigated  F.  Roybet and found him to be a well known artist.

 

circa:  1840-1920. I own a masterpiece from an old master!

 

Now, I’m rich! I can buy anything, and I have my financier Roybet

 

to pay my way. To pay homage to my benefactor, I  bought  two

 

rapiers  and hung them crossed blades over my beautiful cavalier.

 

We decided tha to save expenses we would givr up the

 

apartment  and bentuy  a larger house in Hampton Bays and live

 

there permanently. Now with   the rent money from the apartment

 

along with thre rent the small house,, and dividends from  my stocks.

 

But most of all my stern faced cavalier gave me piece of mind.

 

I now became an average American.  Two cars,two

 

homes, with all the furnishings  that go with them…and two

 

mortgages. No matter, I have my painting to bail me out.

 

However,  surprise! surprise! My two houses went up in value.

 

Yet still thinking of ‘what if?’, because our ten year contract with the

 

government was cancelled.. My employer was forced to cut back on personnel.

 

So weimmediately sold the small house  a larg profit, just incase I was one

 

Of them. There is nothing like having money in in financial stress.  .

 

Every Friday,  good competent design engineers were let go. It was a

 

constant parade of my friends shaking hands with smiles on their faces

 

and tears in their eyes. I would go to work on Friday mornings with wrapping

 

paper and string to wrap my books and  possessions, if it was my turn to be

 

let go. And every morning I would think of how glad I was to have money.

 

Fortunately my turn never came.

 

The  devastation ended at the count of forty. Only seven of us

 

remained, to be the nucleus of the new supervising group, in the

 

next upswing. My cavalier and rapiers can remain on the wall a

 

little longer. So far, did my necessary gambling pay off? Not yet.

 

After afew yearsBecause of mismanagement, and the exportof

 

engineering jobs, my firm was forced into bankruptcy..

 

Now  I was forced to obtain another job. At the time of my

 

leaving I was fifty-five, fully vested and eligible for a pension

 

at  age  sixty-five. My new firm paid a higher  salary and a higher position. Now

 

my painting hung firmly on the wall.

 

We still lived frugally, investing spare money… when we

 

had it, in dividend paying blue chip stocks.

 

Somehow during the course of events we suddenly realized that

 

he Hampton house would be too small when we retired. So we began

 

talking theoretically of course, of buying a larger house, and

 

renting the smaller one, to offset the cost of the new mortgage.

 

The firm that I was working for at the time was engaged  in

 

building nuclear, and fossil fuel electric utility plants.

 

My job was reasonably secure so our theoretical plan became

 

a reality.  Our retirement house was large, well built, and …

 

expensive.  So, all our savings went into the down payment.

 

Once again I began to look into the cold eyes of my cavalier

 

for comfort,and reassurance

 

My son having to go to college coincided with my last  mortage payment.

 

Lucky me, I had more money  to invest in a nicer, newer, retirement home. Here