I have a lot of respect for lottery ticket peddlers. I suppose it’s because of what they do. They aren’t selling small pieces of paper with numbers printed on them. What they are selling are dreams, small, translucent, temporary dreams that make you feel good, that allow you to fantasize, that put a small little smile on your face and heart. For that little moment, however brief it may be, everyone who buys a lottery ticket imagines what it would be like to win. That’s what a lottery man sells: hope.