Fri, 03 Apr 2026 20:33:34 +0200 https://hearthis.at/soniaryan/ en-EN contact@hearthis.at contact@hearthis.at https://hearthis.at/soniaryan/ https://img.hearthis.at/1/6/1/_/uploads/dummy/user/w1400_h1400_q70_ptrue_v2_----cropped_user_01161.png no no https://hearthis.at/soniaryan/meyaadha-maan-nee-mattum-podhum-video-song-vaibhav-priya-indhuja-pradeep-kumar/
On the appointed day, shoes shined, hair cut, suit newly pressed, I appeared at the IRS regional offices, virtually staggering under an armload of folders full of old checks, receipts and layers of paper that, I was sure, would prove my innocence. The gentleman who was assigned my case was very polite and professional, glancing at my return, laughing politely at all the stuff I was going to unload on his desk. After the pleasantries, I asked the obvious question: Why me? Well, he replied, as I was starting to realize that English was not his native tongue, “It’s just the draw of the luck.” That’s when I knew I was in trouble.

As it turned out, although it took awhile, the IRS and I reached an amiable agreement, but the phrase has stuck in my mind ever since. Draw of the luck; luck of the draw. My number was up. In the wrong place at the wrong time. Fate. Serendipity. Que sera, sera. Whatever.

Reading Vince Daniello’s feature story about the sinking of the 124-foot motoryacht Gigi in this issue, I was reminded that much of life is a combination of all the above. Many years ago, when I was writing about education for Time and Newsweek, a sociologist at Johns Hopkins made a major study of the factors that influenced how kids (particularly, in this case, inner-city kids) achieved in school. He identified one thing way above all the others, and he called it “fate control.” In essence, this means that if you think you can do something to control your fate (stay in school, do your homework, earn good grades) then you will achieve. If you don’t think you can control your fate, you throw in the towel.

We like to think, when we cast off from the dock, that we are in control of our fate. That idea, after all, is one of the reasons we love boating. We’ve planned, charted, learned enough that we think we can actually go from A to B safely and securely. We can go over the horizon and take on the sea because we’ve prepared for the worst and, to use the old Clint Eastwood/Dirty Harry line, because we know our limitations.

Then again, sometimes fate takes over. What struck me about Gigi was simply the totality of events that, in the end, made the disaster inevitable. Any one of them in isolation, or even a combination of them, would have resulted in a problem, but not a Mayday, a helicopter rescue and a capsized megayacht. Yet, in a boat at sea, one problem often leads, quickly and unexpectedly, to another. Problems spin out of control quickly, and the consequences–lying beam to the waves without power in a violent storm, taking on water through the transom and then the sloshing effect of the water inside the boat–explode exponentially. One problem could mean calling SeaTow. A series of problems could mean calling the Coast Guard and hoping that the helicopter doesn’t run out of fuel before it lifts you and your crew to safety.

Vince, who holds a 500-ton captain’s license and has run everything from motoryachts and sportfishermen to 200-foot steel-hulled supply ships for the oil platforms in the Gulf of Mexico, says he thinks the primary lesson of Gigi is this: That while yacht design and construction
[Source](https://mesotheliomatoday.com/doctors-are-studying-the-oncos-102-vaccine-for-mesothelioma/)

(not to mention emergency communication and rescue capabilities) have improved dramatically in the past 20 years, the ocean demands respect. Captains must understand their vessels’ limitations; owners must respect their captains’ judgment. “Going to sea,” he says, “is serious business.”

Indeed it is. It also can be one of the most gratifying of all human endeavors. The point is to tip the balance so that you never have to rely on the draw of the luck.]]>
On the appointed day, shoes shined, hair cut, suit newly pressed, I appeared at the IRS regional offices, virtually staggering under an armload of folders full of old checks, receipts and layers of paper that, I was sure, would prove my innocence. The gentleman who was assigned my case was very polite and professional, glancing at my return, laughing politely at all the stuff I was going to unload on his desk. After the pleasantries, I asked the obvious question: Why me? Well, he replied, as I was starting to realize that English was not his native tongue, “It’s just the draw of the luck.” That’s when I knew I was in trouble.

As it turned out, although it took awhile, the IRS and I reached an amiable agreement, but the phrase has stuck in my mind ever since. Draw of the luck; luck of the draw. My number was up. In the wrong place at the wrong time. Fate. Serendipity. Que sera, sera. Whatever.

Reading Vince Daniello’s feature story about the sinking of the 124-foot motoryacht Gigi in this issue, I was reminded that much of life is a combination of all the above. Many years ago, when I was writing about education for Time and Newsweek, a sociologist at Johns Hopkins made a major study of the factors that influenced how kids (particularly, in this case, inner-city kids) achieved in school. He identified one thing way above all the others, and he called it “fate control.” In essence, this means that if you think you can do something to control your fate (stay in school, do your homework, earn good grades) then you will achieve. If you don’t think you can control your fate, you throw in the towel.

We like to think, when we cast off from the dock, that we are in control of our fate. That idea, after all, is one of the reasons we love boating. We’ve planned, charted, learned enough that we think we can actually go from A to B safely and securely. We can go over the horizon and take on the sea because we’ve prepared for the worst and, to use the old Clint Eastwood/Dirty Harry line, because we know our limitations.

Then again, sometimes fate takes over. What struck me about Gigi was simply the totality of events that, in the end, made the disaster inevitable. Any one of them in isolation, or even a combination of them, would have resulted in a problem, but not a Mayday, a helicopter rescue and a capsized megayacht. Yet, in a boat at sea, one problem often leads, quickly and unexpectedly, to another. Problems spin out of control quickly, and the consequences–lying beam to the waves without power in a violent storm, taking on water through the transom and then the sloshing effect of the water inside the boat–explode exponentially. One problem could mean calling SeaTow. A series of problems could mean calling the Coast Guard and hoping that the helicopter doesn’t run out of fuel before it lifts you and your crew to safety.

Vince, who holds a 500-ton captain’s license and has run everything from motoryachts and sportfishermen to 200-foot steel-hulled supply ships for the oil platforms in the Gulf of Mexico, says he thinks the primary lesson of Gigi is this: That while yacht design and construction
[Source](https://mesotheliomatoday.com/doctors-are-studying-the-oncos-102-vaccine-for-mesothelioma/)

(not to mention emergency communication and rescue capabilities) have improved dramatically in the past 20 years, the ocean demands respect. Captains must understand their vessels’ limitations; owners must respect their captains’ judgment. “Going to sea,” he says, “is serious business.”

Indeed it is. It also can be one of the most gratifying of all human endeavors. The point is to tip the balance so that you never have to rely on the draw of the luck.]]> 4758171 no no Wed, 20 May 2020 14:43:16 +0200 2020-05-20T14:43:16+02:00 3:28