Today I was driving home from errands and it was sunny, a rarity on a February Sunday in Seattle. Being that it was sunny my head felt clear, and being that I was stuck in traffic my mind was wandering, and my thoughts eventually drifted back to 35 years ago.
Back then, in the late 80s and early 90s when I was in college, every boy I knew played and watched basketball. Football was fine, and some kids watched baseball, and a few were into hockey, but the majority of us were mostly into basketball. We all played basketball, and most kids were at least decent at it, and we had a lot of really fun games playing on the playground, and then in the evenings sometimes we’d gather to watch the college and pro games.
I was thinking about this, and then thinking about Christian Laettner, who is about my age and was a marvelous basketball player at Duke, and I was thinking how talented he was and tall he was and self-assured he was. And I realized that that self-assured kid who had everything (talent, height, fame, athletic ability, future wealth) including his ENTIRE ADULT LIFE still ahead of him is now (WTF!!!) 56 years old.
56 is not young. In fact, it’s closer to 80 then it is to 30, and closer to 90 then it is to 20. And what’s more 56 arrived very very rapidly.
How did all of this happen?
How did someone my age become 56? How did I become that age? How did Michael Jordan become old (60s) and Jerry Rice become old (60s) and Joe Montana very old (70s) when just last year they were young with their entire adult lives ahead of them.
I just don’t know how it is that 35 years went by so quickly, and also where they went. And also it’s amazing how often and how hard this realization strikes me. I can never quite get over how quickly this life thing whisks by for all of us, including me.
Anyway. Life is so very short. And our youthful primes are even shorter. And 35 years goes by — poof — in a blink of an eye. Here’s hoping the next 35 years go a lot slower 🙂 And I’m grateful that at least I have my memories and can remember very well back when I was in college.
By the time they were 20, my parents were married (to each other 🙂 ). They started careers at 21, having kids (me) at 21 and they owned a house by 22. Later, they upgraded their house by age 27, started earning decent money at 30, and making great money at age 40.
Me?
I was married (for the first time) at 25. Started my career job at age 29. Had kids and a house at 30. And started earning decent money at age 35.
Always I was about five or ten years behind them. And that was okay.
By some miracle I caught up to them by age 40.
At age 40 I had some lucky breaks in my career, and I too suddenly started making pretty great money, just like my parents themselves had done at 40. Mom was proud of me, telling me that I was farther ahead of them by age 40, but the reality is we were about even.
Then life took me on a different path for me.
I got lung disease at 43. What started out as some fatigue and breathless when I exercised at age 40 was diagnosed as potentially-fatal lung disease when I was 43. That irrevocably changed the course of my life.
Whereas my parents spent their 40s having fun and accumulating money for retirement, I spent my 40s managing my health and holding on for dear life to my life and my career.
I spent countless hours in the doctor’s office. I lost a job, then found and lost another job. Meanwhile, after 5 years of trying to push and horse whip me back into my past successes despite my lung disease, my (now ex) wife lung gave up on me and moved on, first emotionally and then completely.
By 50 my parents were living their greatest life and could retire at any time.
By 50 I was job hopping, making half what I’d been at age 40, job hopping, managing my health as a second job, and hoping I could scrape enough together to retire by age 70.
In short, by age 50 my parents had been a LOT better off than I was.
And that’s okay.
I’m not my parents. My life is not my parents’ life. I was blessed because life could have just used my lung disease to kill me, but instead it spared me and I learned that I am a survivor, a battler, and surprisingly resilient.
And, overall, happy. Happier than I was at age 40, for sure.
I’m remarried. I won’t retire rich but by age 70 I’ll be okay.
In short, I was behind my parents, then caught up to my parents, then life pushed them ahead while knocking me back. And all in all I’m grateful. Because at the end of the day, all that matters to me is carving out some joy, managing my stress, and being alive.
It’s a long decidedly-uninteresting story as to why, but our cleaners don’t clean our basement, just our main floor. Which means cleaning the basement is on us, which means in busy times (nearly always) the basement doesn’t get cleaned as often as it should except for our office area.
This morning I noticed some dirt left by our contractors (or me) next to the basement exit door. It needs to be swept. And it sure as heck won’t get swept today. Yes, I keep a small broom upstairs to sweep by that door, but in my long list of priorities sweeping the floor next to the basement door is not high on that list.
Which makes me wonder: Why don’t good break-ins happen??
We’re forever worried about people breaking in to steal our laptops from our office. And it’s possible that can happen if we don’t take precautions like not leaving the laptops in view when we’re not around. But there is basically zero chance of anyone breaking in and stealing the dirt by the back door.Of breaking in and sweeping, or cleaning the bathroom, or upgrading/optimizing our laptops, or vacuuming the couch.
Which is more evidence that Earth is actually Hell. That somewhere out there in the omniverse at some point in the past we were condemned to amnesia and prison or to hell, and it’s here, on Earth. I love life. And I love our Earth. But that doesn’t mean it’s not hell.
For example:
Why is paranoid schizophrenia always bad? Why is it that the unfortunate souls* who suffer from it have misguided delusions that often hurt themselves or others? Why aren’t they walking in an imaginary world filled with happy people who tell them to do amazing things, rather than a scary world where voices tell them to do bad things?
Why are people always abducted for bad things? For money, or to hurt them? Why isn’t there ever a time where someone disappears and it’s because some good samaritan crazy person kidnapped** them to HELP them by curing their cancer or making them more youthful or something? Like suddenly our friend is abducted, then a few days later they’re returned with that cancerous growth removed?
Anyway. Earth is Hell. I’m convinced of it. And I need to look no further than the unswept dirt on my floor and how there is zero chance of some hooligan sweeping it away for us.
NOTES:
(*) Note: a recently past family acquaintance had this — it’s awful)?
(**) My heart goes out to the Guthrie family. And also the families of the 90,000 outstanding missing persons cases in the US.
That’s how many Super Bowls the Seattle Seahawks have won in my lifetime, and I was alive and well during our first season in 1976. (It’s also how many Seahawks games I’ve watched over the past 10 years — the NFC Championship and the Super Bowl — although I do root from afar and read about them every day in the sports journals).
So it’s a special occasion for a city to win the Super Bowl, and there are projected to be a million delirious Seattle-ites at the Super Bowl Parade today.
The Seattle Public Schools announced that schools will be open as scheduled and the Super Bowl Parade is NOT an excused absence.
As someone who attended Seattle Public Schools as a student for 13 years (K-12), then taught in Seattle Public Schools for a year as a substitute teacher and administrator, and who now volunteers for a charity that helps deliver food to kids in need at schools, I think it’s AMAZING they’re keeping the schools open. Because there are families and kids who need the schools to be open as a safe space for eight hours.
But wow oh wow. To not EXCUSE attending the parade? Making kids miss a memorable experience? Or making them fight through overpacked busses or closed streets to get to school? Where’ the humanity in that? Why not keep the schools open but also be understanding if kids can’t make it to school that day because of the parade? That would be the double-awesomeness of humanity.
We live in a world where there is increasingly less humanity. Where wealthy people lay workers off while pocking more money. Where companies lay off human beings for robots. Where people hate on each other over political beliefs? Why not show a little extra humanity when we can by having a place kids can go to but not expecting them to be there on what is a special day for their city?
Last night, for the first time in maybe five years, we walked two movies back-to-back. It just so happened that both were classics.
The first was Sunset Boulevard, picked for the primary reasons that we haven’t seen it in a long time, we love it, and it was free. The second was Breakfast At Tiffany’s, which I’ve seen twice (not in a long time) and couldn’t recall either of it other than it was two young kept people who develop a friendship. It was surprisingly good.
It was interesting that we watched both movies on the same night because there is a similar string in a way. In essence, all the main characters are younger people struggling to pay bills who are at risk of (or dream of) becoming kept people by people with means.
It is an interesting dynamic in a romantic relationship, a financially struggling person and financially comfortable person. Both people have to be totally grounded (I believe) and noble for it to work. The risks otherwise of course, is that one person takes advantage of the other. This can work how we might expect it to work, wherein the wealthy person exploits the poor person; in Sunset Boulevard, the struggling “hero” as consumed by the wealthy older person until he loses his independence and identity and becomes a virtual prisoner. But it can work the other way too, where the struggling person wraps their tentacles around the poor person. In my own instance, I think of how I was 20-something with work ethic and a college degree and a savings account who met a high school dropout with bad credit and literally nothing to her name. I feel like she latched on to me and drove me to get what she wanted in life until such time 30 years later that I was no longer capable or needed and so was put to pasture, all the while gaslighting me. I was duped. I should have been wiser. Smarter. I became a victim. It worked out for me in the end (I was free!!!) but I lost 25 years of my life and my health in the process.
So it definitely can be where a person-in-need becomes entrapped, but so too can it work the other way. So it’s very important always that we enter a relationship with our eyes wide open, and we are aware of the potential dynamics, and we work to stay on sound footing, whether financially or otherwise. Anyway, that was my take.
I loved watching those movies last night. It was a fun way to relax on a stormy evening. And I liked Breakfast At Tiffany’s a lot more than I thought I would. And how much I wish I’d been wiser about relationship dynamics when I was 23.
It is pouring down rain today! I am holding an open house and got drenched. The sky is very dark, and the drops are very big, and it only takes a few moments for the shoes and jacket and pants to get damp. In a way, it’s cozy.
It was pride that prevented me from being too open and out there in public. For example, I dreaded sales calling because of pride. And didn’t have social media accounts because of pride. And never ever allowed dirty dishes to be in the kitchen because of pride.
Pride brought my spirit down when there was a flaw with my house or car. It made me sensitive (and lash out) at criticism (“f— you!”). It made me fret too much about silly statistics, like batting average or shooting percentage or quota attainment percentage. Who cares what I batted in recreational softball??
It was pride that embarrassed me when my (now ex) wife promoted her business and herself, like that time she stood on the street corner and handed out Halloween candy with her business card on it. I remember having to quietly work so hard to swallow that pride, to let her do what she needed to do without commenting that it was embarrassing seeing my last name being handed out on a street corner.
And it was pride that drove me to always look my best, to make sure my hair was good and my body was firm and I stayed youthful looking.
In short, pride made me worry too much about how people perceived me.
Then lung disease grabbed me in 2011. Put me in a hospital bed. Made me tired. Nearly killed me. Then, by some incredible undeserving miracle, it loosened its grasp on me and retreated, sparing me and letting me not only live but live without an oxygen tank (a 50/50 chance)!
Maybe best of all, when lung disease retreated, it also took with it my pride. Which I think is a good thing. In fact, it’s a great thing.
I could care less how people (except Larissa) perceive my career. Or whether they remember me as a good athlete or smart or not. Or see me as attractive or not. Who cares?? What does it change or matter??
In 2019, when my hurtful ex-wife chose trying to shame me about various things rather than just honestly saying she wanted to move on with her life (i.e. chose gaslighting and shaming rather than transparency), I guffawed at her. “I won’t be judged by you,” I said. “I beat lung disease. What the f— have you done?”
That was the moment I realized that I was truly confident. That lung disease spared me from the judgement of others. Because when we’ve faced the specter of death, not much in life can scare us after that.
Now I don’t care how people perceive my career. Or think I’m goofy. Or roll their eyes at my goofy rambling face-book posts.
It’s incredibly liberating.
Today I made myself vulnerable. Posted on Facebook and Instagram and my LinkedIn page that I was holding an open house tomorrow. 15 years ago there is no way I would have done that, but today I only felt happy that I could do my best to promote Larissa’s client. It felt good.
Meanwhile, I could care less if ultimately people on LinkedIn think I’ve had a successful career or not. I know the truth. What do I care how some random person perceives me based on my profile? This also feels good.
Pride is folly. Because at the end of the day we’re all human and vulnerable and fallible. No matter how perfect we are or rich we are or even strong we are, we’re just a bout with lung disease or cancer away from death. This is humbling. And it’s beautiful.
Here is to being pride free. And the incredibly luck that is beating terminal illness. I’m so grateful.
We needed our deck completed, so I sat down one day and called a variety of contractors with good Google reviews, and we ended up entertaining for bids from three of them.
One of them was easy to dismiss. The person who arrived to build the estimate was a little cynical about everything before delivering a too-salesy pitch that more-or-less touted the saintly qualities of both the company and its founder. Thankfully his bid was twice as much as the other two, so it was easy to sweep that bid aside.
But the other two bids were terrific.
Both the contractors had great reviews and were highly experienced while exuding a tremendous amount of know-how as they talked through everything with us. Then as we asked for clarifications and modifications during the decision process, both were incredibly responsive and patient, and basically easy to work with. To top it all off, they were the same price almost to the dollar.
Who to choose?? And, worse, who to disappoint?
Sometimes it’s challenging to pick someone because they’re all terrible. But even worse is when there are two (or more) who are sublime, because in the end we only have one deck but two deserving people which means one person is going to be disappointed.
In the end, I explained the situation to the contractor we didn’t select. And he was very gracious in his response, which I’m thankful for.
There’s that great line in Amadeus, where he can’t decide on wigs so wishes he had more than one head. And so it was with our deck: I hated to disappoint someone, and wish so much we had more than one deck to build.
It’s hard in life to be a people pleaser. Because in the end it’s impossible to please everyone. Such is my cross to bear.
I don’t have a great brain for remembering words, but time was I had a fairly decent brain for remembering numbers.
Until about 15 years ago, I remembered any date I saw in writing (which made history exams much easier), phone numbers without trying, useless statistics of any kind (I loved reading the Baseball Encyclopedia at night), and could memorize just about any number I put half a mind to.
I never realized how incredibly useful this was.
About 15 years ago I battled lung disease. And a neurologist told me that those top echelons of our brain are the most susceptible to oxygen deprivation, and I do believe that that battle shaved some of my capacity for numbers away (aka caused some brain damage 🙂 ). And although I am still above average for remembering numbers, it’s by no means fail-proof and have to work at it a lot harder to remember them.
For example, today I was asked by NWLMS for my six-digit ID number, a number I was assigned yesterday. It went like this:
CALL AGENT: “May I have your ID number?”
ME: “Uh.”
CALL AGENT: “It’s the six digit number we assigned you.”
ME: “Yes, I know. I need to find it in my email.”
Sigh.
That’s embarrassing and a pain in the butt.
Conversely, I remember this situation from 2005:
ME (on headset while driving): Do you have that phone number I need to call?
COLLEAGUE: Yes, but aren’t you driving?
ME: Yes, but you can just tell me. I’ll remember.
COLLEAGUE (skeptically): Okay, here it is. 513 blah blah blah blah blah blah (last digits removed to protect the innocent).
ME: Okay, thank you. (The number was filed away in my memory at that point. Later, my colleague commented how remarkable it was that I could remember a phone number like that on the first listen while driving. But it was just how my brain worked, and it probably came at a sacrifice to other parts of my brain like how to change a light bulb).
I never realized what a pain it is to have to try to memorize numbers. Everything is just a little bit harder now. And I have to have some kind of filing system that I never had to have before 10 years ago, although thank goodness the search feature on our devices makes it so much easier.
It’s such a gift to remember numbers. And to remember numbers without trying. I wish I’d appreciated it more when I had it. But I’m grateful it was taken from me only after the world’s search mechanisms had become so powerful. And I’m grateful to be at least average — it could have been far worse 🙂
How do significant life events or the passage of time influence your perspective on life?
How The Passage Of Time Has Influenced My Perspective
I was 43 the first time I started to relax.
For 20 years of my adulthood I’d fretted and toiled. Fretted and toiled, mostly about each of life’s milestones.
First, it was to graduate college. I was going to university in a small town that I didn’t like very much, because being in my early 20s I didn’t want to be in a small town — I wanted to be in the city! So I wanted out of that college, and the best way to do that was to graduate, so I fretted and toiled my way toward graduation.
Then I graduated and it was time to get my career going. Except we were in a mini-recession (early 90s) at the time and no one was hiring recent college graduates. So I worked a series of grunt jobs as a mover and a DJ and bank teller and tutor, and meanwhile went back to school to earn my teaching certification. I’d love to say those were good times, but they weren’t: it was a time of very low checking account balances and day-to-day drudgery and all through those years I fretted and I toiled.
Then I got out of school and got my first career job and then wanted so desperately to have a house. I felt like houses were out of my reach, and felt a lot of resentment at older generations for creating a world where I couldn’t afford a house. I spent a lot of time fretting and toiling although after a few years I was actually able to buy a house (!).
And so it went.
Every single step of the way, year after year of my 20s and then my 30s, I fretted and toiled. Fretted and toiled. I was pretty miserable most of the time, if I’m honest. Yes, I had my moments of joy, and on the surface everyone always commented how happy I seemed, but there was just this overwhelming sense of toiling and fretting surging through my veins like an invisible poison. I worked and worked, and when I wasn’t working I was taking care of the kids and the house and covering for an always-absent (now ex) wife, and all the time I worried and fretted about this and that, always worrying about the next milestone.
Then there was hope!
There was a moment — actually two — when I was 43 when I finally relaxed.
The first moment was on an early morning bike ride. We were at our vacation home, which I loved BUT which I was forever worried about paying for, and we were at the house one summer week when I was on a dawn mountain bike ride through the forest. There was a moment along the river when suddenly I realized the early morning sun was on my face, and the birds were singing all around me, and the river was murmuring next to me, and meanwhile the sweet smell of nature was in the air. And suddenly I just stopped. I stopped, got off my bike, and just soaked in that moment for a minute, then two minutes, then 15 minutes. There literally was not another human being around me, and I suddenly wondered if I were in heaven because it was just soooooo peaceful. Up until that time, I’d never experienced a moment like that before.
The next moment when I relaxed was THE moment when I relaxed. Age 43, and having dinner with my parents, and was making great money, and my work seemed to love me, and the kids were teens and seemed happy, and my (now ex) wife was around helping a little more often, and I was even still in my athletic prime (I’d batted .920 in and still regularly making diving catches during the recently-ended softball season), and suddenly I thought, “I’ve made it. I’m going to be okay.” I actually thought life might freeze at that very moment, where I’d be okay and age 43 forever.
But time didn’t stop. And (thankfully) life didn’t stop.
It kept on coming. Moment after moment, day after day, year after year.
That was way over 10 years ago.
In the decade since that moment at dinner with my parents, so many changes have happened in my life. I was let go for the very first time, and then for the second time. I battled a fluke lung disease (successfully, thank goodness). I got divorced and then after promising myself I’d never date again actually dated again and got remarried again (to a much more present person than my ex was). And meanwhile the years just keep on coming. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.
To me, the most shocking things aren’t the life changes I’ve undergone since I was 43 (actually, each one of them has been a blessing). It’s that each year just keeps on passing. That life just keeps on passing. One year after the other. And it makes me realize the folly of toiling and fretting about milestones, about wanting to achieve certain things on a certain timeframe in life at the expense of being in the moment. Because life is in that moment. My amazing ex-grandmother-in-law used to say, “Life is what happens while you’re making your future plans.” How true that is.
I wish I could go back in time. And to tell myself to stop fretting. And to stop toiling. Because that stole so much happiness from me, and sucked 20 years of my life away.
But.
But!
I’m here now. And presumably I still have a few decades of good life left in me. And I’ve been influenced by the passage of time in that I’ve learned to just be in the moment, to just feel joy in the here and now, and to take a moment to appreciate each and every day.
Regret is folly. Better is to take what we’ve learned and to apply that to our present and future. Because our present and future is all we have in our life. And I’m just so grateful that time has taught me to appreciate today.
Wishing you a great day.
NOTES:
Every day WordPress offers a writing prompt. I’ve never been a writing prompt person but actually have been enjoying these prompts. This is my response to today’s prompt.
Life, Work & Wonder 