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Travel Piece  by Ida Nasatir

Letter from Paris  by Ida Nasatir,  August 31, 1951

August 31, 1951—Ida Nasatir, "A Letter from Paris,"  Southwestern Jewish Press, page 6,  Dear Julia and Mac:. French lottery is a national institution! For a long time I was curious about the many small stands which sell multi-colored tickets to passers-by. I have come to know that every French man or woman who buys a ticket, pockets a slip of paper which can, and sometimes does, net a fortune. The tickets are issued and sponsored by the French National Lottery, government owned and regulated. I was amazed to learn that within the past 20 years, the astonishing total of 30 billions of francs (more than 11 million dollars) has been distributed in prizes. The "come hither" appeal is tremendous, and I'm commencing to understand why it is that the waiters in "our" Eden restaurant never let a week pass without trying their luck in the lottery. As far as I know, none of them have ever won.  Unlike prize-winners at home, the identity of most of the persons who have feathered their nests with these winnings is not made known to the public, because the French government extends to a winner the privilege of keeping his happy secret if he so desires. Statistics about some of the winners are available, however. From them you learn that the practical Frenchman who becomes rich overnight neither baths in champagne nor buys his wife a mink coat. He quietly buys a farm, a restaurant or a butcher shop and sets about earning a living. Government officials cherish the story of the French housewife, who, thanks to the Lottery, made the impressive discovery that her husband was worth more to her dead than alive. he had bought a lottery ticket shortly before he died suddenly. His alert wife had jotted down the ticket's number for safety's sake. When the drawing revealed that her ticket was the winning one, the widow set about searching for her late spouse's ticket. Without it, she could not claim the prize.  To her horror she finally recalled that the precious tab was buried in her husband's coat pocket. Undaunted, she had her husband exhumed. The coffin gave up its treasure, and the triumphant wife, still in mourning, claimed her prize.  No, the Nasatirs have bought no lottery tickets!—Fondly, Ida Nasatir.

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