The number of millionaires in North Dakota went up 18.5 percent in 2008. There were 473 North Dakota taxpayers reporting adjusted gross incomes of more than $1 million. In terms of analogy, it would be as if everyone in Strasburg was a millionaire. Strasburg should be so lucky.

Closer to home -- or closer to the tally of my direct-deposits -- the average adjusted gross income in the state went from $48,590 to $50,781 last year. Given there are only about 600,000 of us, this smaller bump up means more to more people than does the all that cash going to new North Dakota millionaires.

I hope this makes everyone happy.

The largess comes not from agriculture, as suggested by the "millionaire farm dogs," a play on the title of the recent Academy Award winning foreign film that I cannot resist, but from oil. The extra zeros come from oil royalties, pegged to the barrels of crude pumped from beneath pastures and cropland in western North Dakota.

Let's assume for the sake of charity that all that money went to deserving, hard-working people -- former Eagle Scouts, long-suffering church ladies and local Charlie Browns. That would be good karma. But the oil industry -- exploration, production and royalties -- is a part of the free market, which does not recognized good works. Rather, it recognizes price, cost of labor, supply, demand and, significantly, luck. It does recognize good business practices.

Waiting for a gusher of a well, or a bumper crop at the right price, is a lot like betting on the North Dakota Powerball lottery, which is at $80 million today. A person can become tired and old in the unfulfilled anticipation of winning the lottery. Or, you can get lucky.

My idea of North Dakota doesn't include serious wealth. It's more an idea of working hard and, on a good day, being pretty much middle class. There are, of course, big farmers. But most farmers and ranchers are land, equipment and building poor. They might have significant assets, but as long as they continue to farm, their pockets are empty and billfolds are flat. Many of the state's merchants are roughly in the same position.

Of course, I'm being naive. There are as many strivers per capita in North Dakota as there are anywhere else. There are individuals here who can be described as wealthy. It's a common desire, getting rich, in North Dakota as in any other state. There's nothing really wrong with it. We do not begrudge our neighbors their millionaire status.

But getting wealthy, becoming a millionaire, doesn't necessarily equate with having lived a good life.

In the movie "The Big Chill," the characters have gathered at a small rural southern church for the funeral service of Alex, who was terribly bright and full of promise, but chose to commit suicide. The minister, a small older man, vibrating with indignation, asks this question in his sermon, "Are the satisfactions of being a good man among our common men no longer enough?"

The line has stuck with me since seeing the film when it was released in 1983. The question isn't particularly profound. At first blush, it might suggest settling for less, but that's only true if your view of your fellow man is jaundiced or cynical. Rather, I find that it resonates with the idea of populism and the essence of democratic ideals.

Living the good life in North Dakota does not come from a bank balance. It does not require a one and six zeros. Rather, it comes from being in this place with family and in community, and sharing life here.

I always thought I could be a good millionaire, that I might have a flare for being wealthy. But as the years go by without hitting the lottery, living this "good life" in western North Dakota has provided more and more satisfaction.

(Ken Rogers' column appears each Saturday. Contact him at ken.rogers@bismarcktribune.com.)