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In the dim before times, there used to be a thing called Roll Up the Rim at Tim Horton’s. Perhaps you remember it? … You don’t? Oh. Well, don’t waste your time reading any further because it’s kind of central to my story. But please yourself.
Padre (Major) Howard Rittenhouse – File Photo
Wait. I’ve just been informed (by buying a coffee) that they’ve resurrected it! Oh, frabulous joy! For years now, I’ve participated in this annual torment that coincides with Lent. Lent is a Christian observance in which you give something up, like chocolate or winning free coffees, for a few weeks before Easter.
I say torment because my record is abysmal. Other people would win free coffees regularly. I – a faithful and loyal customer – won not at all. Zip. Nada. Bupkis. But, like I said, it was Lent, so you could say I was practicing forbearance or patience. I prefer to think I was being given the opportunity to practice another great virtue: hope. It’s a virtue with which I have nearly as much familiarity as the Maple Leafs with a winning season, as Cold Lakers who think that that last blast of winter will indeed be the last, as Lindsay Lohan with an Oscar, as Nickleback with good music, as…. You get the idea. Every year I defy the odds (and past experience, bitter, bitter past experience) and roll up the rim at Tim Horton’s (all rights reserved).
The last time I kept remembering ‘enjoying’ Roll Up the Rim, I defied a losing streak as entrenched and dug in as my tape worm, Phil. That year (I remember well, sort of) I was actually well within the advertised odds of 1 in 6: I was – wait for it! – 6 for 26 (or something close to that – accuracy is something else with which I only have a passing acquaintance).
So why did I bother? Why not just throw in the towel like the Leafs every year and go golfing? Why not admit defeat like France in 1940 and sip wine quietly at a café? Why not just buy McDonald’s coffee and get a free one for every seven?!
Well, I’ll tell you! I didn’t do so for the same reason that the Leafs come back every year and play their hearts out (I presume); for the same reason that the French defied the Vichy government and the Nazi behemoth; for the same reason I don’t buy McDonald’s coffee but keep going back to Timmie’s. In a word – hope.
Hope spurs many to defy the odds – like buying coffee at Timmie’s day after day hoping to win a mere free coffee only to peel back the rim and see the taunting words “Please play again.” Yes, please play again, go ahead, you’ll win this time, sure you will. Like Charlie Brown defying experience and believing that THIS time he’ll kick that football, only for Lucy to yank it away at the last moment. Yes, it’s a little masochistic. But firmly twinned with hope is more than a little hard-headed stubbornness.
Sometimes that’s what it takes to persevere: hope and a generous helping of inflexible obstinacy. When life pulls the football away at the last moment, when you peel back the proverbial rim and “Please play again” leers mockingly at you – hope. Persevere – stubbornly, obstinately, inflexibly hope. Whatever the challenge, whatever the football yanked away at the last moment – health, financial issues, postings and dealing with BGRS – whatever the cross you have to bear, persevere, hope, stubbornly and obstinately defy the odds.
As the essayist Alexander Pope famously said, “Hope springs eternal.” Just look at me: I’m a walking, breathing odds-defier! This year is my year to win! (I hope)