The Unluckiest Person in the World is Also … the Happiest?

Life take a 💩 on you? Talk to my friend Ted.

I had a best friend growing up.

For privacy’s sake, let’s call him Ted. His name isn’t Ted, but then what happened to Ted is pretty grisly. So let’s go with Ted.

He was a good buddy. We went to elementary school together. This was in the San Fernando Valley. It was an affluent community. Big houses, nice yards. I mean, it’s where Nikki Six from Motley Crue lived, and the Kardashians before they were The Kardashians.

Ted lived in a truly enormous mansion. His parents bought him all the best toys, like Skeletor’s Castle from He-Man and the G.I. Joe aircraft carrier. Old heads will know what I mean. The good stuff. And his dad bought even better stuff for himself. Jaguars. Porsches. Bentleys. Those kind of wheels.

They all seemed very happy.

I was — as any elementary school kid would be—jealous.

Then one day, his dad was arrested for murder. And not just any murder, his dad was arrested for murdering Ted’s grandparents. A story like that would make the headlines today, sure, but back then, before things like the OJ case and the Menendez brothers trial, this was big, big news, and terrible.

Ted’s dad ended up confessing — Ted was told it was to avoid the death penalty — and got life behind bars.

But as you might imagine, this ruined Ted’s childhood. He was in 2nd grade. And he was convinced of his father’s innocence.

Kids at school started making fun of him. His family had to move out of their house. His older brother and sister started running into all kinds of problems with the law. His sister dropped out of high school. The family was a wreck. None of this was Ted’s fault. It all happened to him.

Time marches on, though.

Ted — despite his challenges — focused on the positive and the good. He grows up, gets into a great California college. He starts dating a lovely girlfriend. And, meanwhile, his sister turns her life around, too. She marries a successful guy. Ted goes to work for him. Ted does so well, he buys a red Corvette — while he’s still in college! I mean, this guy has it made.

So you’d think, at this point, Ted is out of the woods. But then, one day during his senior year in college, he gets into a car crash. Ted, making a left at an intersection in his red Corvette, was clipped on his back tire by another driver and he careens into a telephone pole.

If you thought he was unlucky when his dad murdered his grandparents, try this: Ted’s seatbelt broke. That’s right. His seatbelt broke. That thing you’re required to wear. That thing you rely on. That thing you strap across your chest and take comfort in. That thing. It broke.

When Ted woke up, it was two months later.

He’d been in a coma so long, his joints had fused together. He couldn’t move. What’s worse, he had no short-term memory. You could visit him in the hospital and tell him a joke, and then five minutes later tell him the same joke and he’d laugh just as loudly. While this disability was a boon for friends who had a limited repertoire of jokes, this was not good for Ted.

In the first twenty years of his life, Ted had suffered an incredible betrayal, lost his family, lost his childhood, fought his way back, then lost everything again. Each time, what happened wasn’t Ted’s fault. He had no agency in the matter. But he had to deal with the consequences regardless.

So what happened next? Well, two things.

One, Corvette settled with him. They admitted a fault in their seatbelts. So Ted, unable to work after the accident, was financially secure.

Two, Ted fought his way back. Again.

He was in intensive care for a long time. Eventually, his memory mostly repaired itself. He had a lot of gaps, but he could make new memories. He wasn’t exactly the same, but he was healthy. He moved to Idaho. He met a girl. Got married. Has three kids. Volunteers locally. All that. Now, every year he calls me on my birthday. He always tells me, laughing, that mine is the only birthday he can remember.

And here’s the kicker: he’s the nicest, happiest, sunniest person I know. Unfailingly. Only looks on the bright side. Whenever he emails me he always signs off “Lucky to be alive, Ted”.

“Lucky to be alive, Ted”

I mean somehow — somehow! — despite this bad luck, a father doing life in prison and a Corvette with a broken seat belt, Ted created the most amazing life for himself. He had every reason in the world to give up and he didn’t. The world happened to him in the worst way, and he fought his way back. Found joy. And through his family — and annual birthday phone calls! — he spreads that joy to others.

So yeah, whenever I’m having a bad day, whenever something doesn’t go right at our agency, or with our clients, or it seems like the world won’t cut you a break, I think of Ted.

In 2019, when it feels like the world is battering you at every turn, I think we’d all do well to remember that we can’t avoid the bad stuff that happens in life. But we can choose the way we react to it. And through that reaction, make the world a better place for ourselves and others.

Thanks, Ted.