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Chinese cooking obviously isn't an American franchise. But what about fate, encapsulated in that bivalved wafer known as the Chinese fortune cookie? Made in U.S.A. Legend suggests it was invented in San Francisco by coolies shanghaied to build the first transcontinental railroads. True or not, the brittle, sugary cookies baked around tiny slips of paper offering fortunes and advice have become a mainstay of multicultural American cuisine. And what better way to reward a well- fed stomach than with an after-dinner digestible of wisdom? BE LIKE THE ROCK IN A STREAM, you might be advised. And surely Saturday-night romancers would savor love awaits, foretelling a successful evening's denouement.
When it comes to the prophecy of fortune cookies, I count myself firmly among the believers. Years ago, before quitting a tedious job in Washington and heading to Asia for adventure, I broke a cookie to tell my fortune. BE BOLD AND MIGHTY FORCES WILL COME TO YOUR AID. It was the best decision I ever made. I roamed the Indonesian rain forest with shamans wearing loincloths made of tree bark and traded a Swiss Army knife from my former girlfriend for a sweat-stained, bead headband. I came home to a great job; my friends had gained weight.
My experience isn't unique. The other day, a co-worker removed a wrinkled fortune from her wallet and held it up hopefully. YOUR DREAM WILL COME TRUE, it read. A couple of days later she signed her first book contract. Another colleague rues the day he took his fortune lightly: DO NOT MARRY THE GIRL! Willful agnostic that he is, he did-- and was rewarded for his hubris with a bitter divorce and world-class alimony. Is it any wonder that some Americans pin these little scraps of paper onto their bulletin boards, stick them on the fridge, or place them on their bed tables? Sure, fortunes are often so vague, it's sometimes hard to imagine their not coming true. But sometimes vague advice and grand predictions are just what one needs.
Recently I went through a life change that called for some good old- fashioned wisdom. A relationship went wrong, I got depressed. Talking to friends and a shrink helped. But oddly, the most sensible advice came in you know what--those fortune cookies. REASONABLE PEOPLE ENDURE; PASSIONATE PEOPLE LIVE.
One day, I determined to find out who wrote these things. Sitting down at my computer, I typed some keywords into a search engine: "wisdom of the ages" and "true enlightenment." A name popped up: Steven ...