A truly fine first line

My life, like yours, I suspect, can feel like it has been ingeniously designed for the sole purpose of strangling serendipity.

What an awesome first line, not my own words, but an extract from a New York Times opinion piece published today. In high school English class I remember working on first lines, typically constructed around an image, a short burst of words inviting the reader to go deeper into the essay, no mere summary of what follows as with an overture to an opera, but an intriguing invitation—as C.S. Lewis says in The Narnia Chronicles—to go further up and further in.

There’s a lot going on in this single sentence. It deserves to be read at least twice if not more often. “My life” makes it very personal; so much depends on the existential character of my life and day. I write these words around 0900 so I am immediately thinking of my day ahead: today is a Saturday with few scheduled events, meetings, or commitments. Apart from some musical preparation I am off duty tomorrow (Sunday). Time to write, which I enjoy; time to read; time to create something, including this blog.

There are some very energizing turns of phrase here. Is life “ingeniously designed” in and by itself—let’s not confuse such a notion with “intelligent design” which is really pseudo-creationism. Ingenuity takes me well beyond the perfunctory performance of routine duties, which are sometimes essential though uninspiring after a time. And what about the evocative “strangling serendipity?” I stood up from my chair reading that. Is life, my life simply a passive response to ideas, events, and opportunities without any creative energy or intent from me? I hope not. So I strangle away . . .

While we are at it, let’s consider a few famous first lines:

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way–in short, the period was so far like the present period that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.
—Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities

All this happened, more or less.
—From Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.
—Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone by J.K. Rowling

Each of these linguistic teasers set the stage for a literary adventure. Note to self: From the first line till the last: tease, intrigue, play, conjure, describe yes, explain somewhat, but provoke imagination mostly.

My challenge to you dear reader is to create your own second line to follow the NYT opener above. I have hinted at my own second line above. What is yours?

Eagerly awaiting your reply, I remain your humble scribe, Ken