I decided this week that my favorite word is “random.” Honestly, I’m not sure why it’s taken me this long. 

Several years ago, I worked on a book with a random kid (her words) named Talia. In 2005, she was overcome with empathy for the victims of Hurricane Katrina and felt compelled to do something. Since Halloween was around the corner, she decided to go trick-or-treating for coins instead of candy. Her younger brother, Zander, was opposed (his words). He wanted the Milk Duds. 

Through a random series of events, Talia, Zander, and their mom, Dana, wound up on the TODAY Show, sharing their plan. They ended up mobilizing youth across the country to join in, raising a collective $10 million for hurricane relief. 

After their success, kids wanted to know how they could create their own philanthropic projects, so Talia started a foundation called Random Kid to teach them. And then Simon & Schuster wanted to know if she’d write a book, and that’s how I got involved. The message is that any random kid (or adult) can make a difference. Here’s a link to a spot on the TODAY Show that chronicles her story.

Working on the project made me realize that many of the turning points in my own life had resulted from something seemingly unconnected. Something random. I became a writer because I attended a Romantics concert. I met David because his buddy’s girlfriend was sick. I was chosen to work on Talia’s book because I started a business called The Organized Parent.

Then I promptly went on with my life and forgot all about the beauty and power of randomness. Until last week. When I met a woman named Solange. 

I’m spending a month in Paris, and Nick joined me the first week. We were exploring neighborhoods and randomly walked by Bel Canto, an opera dinner show with a big sign that said, “Spectacle.” Well, who can pass up the opportunity to witness a spectacle??!! (Turns out “spectacle” is French for “show.”)

By chance (a cousin of random), they had a one table for two that night. We both decided it would be something fun to do—something completely random.

If you’ve never been to an opera dinner show, the hostess and wait staff are also the performers, singing and acting during the meal. And, since this is Paris, the songs are all in French. While we didn’t understand the words, we did get the premise, which was a love square (a cousin of a love triangle), involving a man, two women who both desired him, and another man who had been dumped by one of the women. At least that’s what the body language and facial gestures seemed to indicate. For all I know, they could have been declaring their love of omelettes and their concerns about the price of eggs.

A few tables over, I noticed a woman especially overcome by the performance of the scorned man. She waved her hand by her face as if she was trying to cool down from his emotional performance. When he finished the song, she yelled “Bravo! Magnifique!!” She looked grandmotherly, and it was sweet to see her swept into the moment.

And then she did something bold. She went over to the piano player, requested a song, and stood up and sang in front of the room of about 100 people. She also embarrassed her adult children, who were having dinner with her. (We later learned that she does this kind of thing often.) She was magnifique! 

I’m willing to bet having a fellow diner get up and sing isn’t your typical French spectacle. In fact, I’ll bet it’s random. And Nick and I were there to witness it.  

I’m on a quest to create an unforgettable life, and Solange seemed like she might be leading one. So, I decided to do something bold. No, I wasn’t going to sing. (I come from a long line of bad singers, and I’m upholding the family legacy.) What I was going to do was talk to this woman. Somehow. I speak very little French. And when I say, “very little,” what I mean is that the only thing I can say with confidence is “Bonjour. Un chat mange croissant,” which means, “Hello. A cat eats a croissant.” And since that wasn’t currently happening, my French wasn’t happening, either. 

But I didn’t let that stop me. I went full out Marcel Marceau, smiling, waving my hands, and miming a request for a photo. And then (thankfully) the wonderful mother and daughter seated next to us who spoke French and English helped me learn more about Solange. And guess what? I was right. She is leading an unforgettable life. 

She told us that it was her birthday, and she was turning 88. She told us that she didn’t have a radio when she was growing up, so she learned to sing. She loved opera. She used to sing opera. She said Solange means earth (sol) angel (ange). She said she had the sol part down, but not so much with the ange.

Then she inserted a totally random (and totally fascinating) fact: Her great grandfather was the model for Rodin’s sculpture The Thinker. She chuckled that they go to the Rodin museum to visit him. (Nick and I visited him the next day. I started thinking that if my Bumpa had been the model, the statue would be strikingly different.) 

Solange hugged me. She kissed me. She inspired me. Hearing about her life made me want to keep doing unforgettable things. Every day. Like feed a cat a croissant in Paris so I can alert passersby. 

Oh, randomness … how I love you.

Which reminds me of the quote by Steve Jobs. “Much of what I stumbled into by following my curiosity and intuition turned out to be priceless later on. You can’t connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So, you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something, your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. Because believing that the dots will connect down the road will give you the confidence to follow your heart even when it leads you off the well-worn path.”

I am going to trust that those random nudges inside of me to go somewhere or talk to someone or eat something are dots leading me somewhere unforgettable.

What about you? Where has random shown up in your life?