There are certain milestones we all share. My classmates all remember getting their draft cards. Everyone remembers getting their first driver's license; landing your first job. First date, first kiss, first....well, let's just say the first of anything.
Most remember high school graduation; some have a college graduation to remember. Each of these events, be they first or not, mark our journey through time and our evolution as people. Each of us use these memories as snapshots of the people we were when these events occurred. As each of these moments go by, there is a change in perspective that subtly occurs.
When I was younger, everything was either directly in front of me or coming soon (or worse, coming at me); I don't recall feeling that the past had much significance, probably because there was so little of it. Maybe when I passed 40, I started looking back every now and again, to see where I had been, as though that glance backward would allow me to chart a better course for the future. I'm not saying that I'm a fatalist; that my course was set from the beginnning and I was just playing it out, but I think everyone has predispositions that help drive those decisions we all face in a particular direction. I've made decisions to the contrary, but always ended up regretting them and recharting a corrective course that led me back to my original direction (I guess those times were when I was fooling myself, and I've done that plenty of times.) Perhaps only an old fool could admit that. Missteps taken, nothing fatal, nothing irrecoverable.
Paul Wagner, a friend of mine from high school, and I used to have these philosophical discussions (as philosophical as two 17 year olds can be) about types of people. We decided that there were dabblers and divers. Dabblers experimented carefully around the edges of things until they were sure they were safe and wouldn't result in death or disfigurement. Divers, as the name implies, just dove in without looking, grabbing opportunities without a care. We also decided that Paul was a diver and I was a dabbler. I wonder now if I missed out on anything because of my basically cautious nature. I wish I could ask Paul if he felt he made mistakes because of his precocious nature. I would if I could find him; if he's even still above ground. Somewhat more philosophically grounded, I can now say categorically, that it didn't make a bit of difference one way or the other that will be detectable in a couple hundred years.
So on this, my ascension to the ripe age of 62 and my official entry into the realm of "Retireable" , I look back and realize how well life has treated me, in spite of myself, granting me a life rich with good memories, good friends, two wonderful wives (consecutive, not concurrent), a great family, and perhaps most importantly, the wits to remember and appreciate it all. If I never did another thing except play in the dirt and make things grow, I'd probably still be happy. It may have taken 62 years, but I am pleased to say that I think I've found my happy place in life. Now the trick is to enjoy it to the fullest. And part of that is sharing it with as many people as I can. That's why I'm writing to you. Thanks again to all of you who took the time to wish me a happy birthday. Linda made sure it was eventful ( even holding a pre-birthday get together; sound familiar? ). Of course, I couldn't let the moment slip away without commenting on it.
No comments:
Post a Comment