Tomorrow, my son will be 29 years old. Never thought I’d see the day. I was telling someone yesterday how easy it is for me to “see” my sons as babies; how much detail I remember of their faces, their voices…it’s like it was all last week instead of the early 80s.
And now look. Seamus is 29 tomorrow, and Lars will be 26 in December. The march of time…
It’s funny. When I was 21, life couldn’t happen fast enough. I blew through minutes and hours like there was no tomorrow, throwing them away without a thought. The marche de temps never bothered me. But now, I’m much more careful with those moments. I want to save them — savor them. I want time to s-l-o-w down. I want the physical effects of aging to slow down without me personally underwriting the Dermitage and Reservatrol product lines.
When I was 21, I didn’t listen when my parents/grandparents/older friends told me, “Savor every moment.” I wish I had. I wish I’d taken more pictures, splurged on that honking huge 20-lb. video camera back in 1981, not been in such a hurry, taught my sons more about more. In other words, I know what the old peeps meant, now that I’m an old peep myself.
To the teenagers and twenty- and thirty-somethings who visit RtB, I say: Listen to the 50-and-over crowd when they tell you that life is indeed short, and that fleeting, seemingly unimportant moments will one day be quite dear in retrospect. Wring every possible ounce of joy out of stuff right now, and make it a habit from here on out. “Make every moment count” is no longer a tired cliché — not to me, anyway. I’ve mentioned to several of my fiends that the Thriller and I have adopted a new life goal: fun. Everything we do will be in some way related to having fun. Whether it’s spending time with grandchildren, planning vacations (wahooty hoo), going on weekend jaunts, having family and friends over for coffee or dinner — it’s all about having fun in the years we have left. Why not start that trip early? Like now, for instance?
Happy weekend — yay!