The day the weather turned toward autumn, my wife and I were sitting on our friend’s dock enjoying the cool breeze and warm sunshine. We had two crab pots in the water, good books to read, and—best of all—time on our hands. And then this happened: The Sultana sailed stately up the river and came about to tie up at her berth. Suddenly, we were smack dab in the middle of a 19th Century memorable moment.
I like the randomness of life. The best laid plans of mice and men are good in theory, but it’s the unexpected moments that add spice to existence. Like the time (just last week) when I knocked my first ball in the water on a par three, then hit my next shot into the cup for the dubious distinction of a hole-in-three. “Ho-hum par,” commented my friend the Eggman drily.
Randomness: the lack of pattern or predictability in events. Loved by mathematicians, statisticians, and scientists the world over; feared by everyone else. While we’d like to believe that life is a logical, predictable phenomenon and that our actions have direct consequences, we know better. All too often the consequences of our actions are unintended. Sometimes, if we’re lucky, these unintended consequences reward us, but more often than not, the collateral damage they cause can reduce a desirable result to rubble. It’s the price we humans pay for any decision that involves even a hint of risk or for the myriad exogenous variables that bombard each and every breath we take.
When first conceived back in the 1940s, game theory was a mathematical model behavioral scientists developed to explain “conflict and cooperation between intelligent, rational decision-makers.” It was based on a zero-sum equation in which one person’s gain resulted in another person’s loss. But times have changed. Assuming for a moment that there are still intelligent, rational decision-makers among us, we now recognize that life is a much more complex game than we had originally thought and that uncertainty can rear its ugly little head at any moment. As a result, modern game theory now takes into account the probability of uncertain random events influencing human decisions, what I like to call the “and-then-this-happened” factors.
If our lives were lived only within the lines, then predictability would rule and there would never be any accidents, surprises, or genetic mutations. (And remember, none of us would be here were it not for genetic mutations!) So be thankful for the unexpected, random occurrences that influence the ho-hum pars of our lives; they keep us on our toes and if we’re lucky, they move us further down evolution’s squiggly line.
Back on the dock, my wife and I lazed the afternoon away. The Sultana tied up, the crew went home. Just before dark, we pulled our two crab pots: one jimmie in each, hardly enough for dinner. And then this happened: my wife’s brother from California turned up on our doorstep, some friends came over, and, well, you can guess the rest…
Jamie Kirkpatrick is a writer and photographer with homes in Chestertown and Bethesda. His work has appeared in the Washington Post, the Baltimore Sun, and the Philadelphia Inquirer. “A Place to Stand,” a book of his photographs, was published by the Chester River Press in 2015. He is currently working on a collection of stories called “Musing Right Along.”
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