I’ve been on a roll recently, knocking out stories with more frequency than I have been accustomed to. There is just so much going on around me, it seemed easier than usual. For the most part, I write about my inside world and it is a bit harder to mine, than latching on to the latest piece of insanity exploding around us with frightening frequency. The political landscape is more screwed up than I can ever recall. If you think the guy in the White House has your best interests at heart, I want to inhale whatever you are smoking or swallow your meds. The cowardice of his own party is matched by that of the opposition.
The level of disappointment in America has no sides and as a result, we are all terribly vulnerable. The fear button is gigantic and everyone delights in pushing it on us. There is actually some consensus on a bunch of issues, but if they run counter to the wallets of the steroid swollen interests of the wealthy, you can kiss off there getting covered by the media they own.
This morning, I heard Billy Joel singing Piano Man and I never realized how depressing it is.
It brought me back to what I truly love about writing, which is using my words to share my feelings and hopefully touch a few of you in the process. The fucked up world will always be around and in some ways it is too easy, digging inside is much more challenging and makes for better story, in my humble opinion.
All of us start out with expectations about our future, what life will be like when we grow up. Sometime before I hit my teens, I decided I wanted to be a doctor, because I wanted to help people. I know it sounded good, especially for a Jewish kid from Queens, NY, the birthplace of an inordinate number of doctors and lawyers and even dentists, a profession that puzzled the shit out of me.
When dreams collide with reality, the outcome is rarely what you’d expect. It only took my second semester in my freshman year at Queens College to blow up the bubble of career security that had comforted me during the turbulent teens, with its uncertainties. I think it hit me in the midst of dissecting a little piglet cadaver, whose arteries were injected red and veins blue. While I may have been bright enough to go the distance, I didn’t have the student vice grip needed for the task ahead.
I had experienced disappointments before turning my back on saving the world. Experiencing the death of my father at age nine was crushing and it certainly messed up any possibility of a perfect world, but I know for certain I came out stronger, not imagining that anything could be worse and damn if I wasn’t right. After my medical career misfortune, the sole objective became getting out of college with a degree, having no idea what perfect future awaited me.
Back to the Piano Man, where everyone in the room wanted to be someplace else and someone else, including our sad, singing hero. You know, it would be easy to look at my life as an endless series of failures and disappointments, versus the great adventures possible for that nine year old. I suppose if convention is the measure, it is too late see a tailor, because the suit of possibilities was always too big for the actual experiences of life.
I suffered for many years in NYC, attempting to live a life of convention, never adequate enough against the dreams of perfection. I felt disappointed in myself and a disappointment to those around me. I don’t know how it happened, but I shed my skin and reinhabitted the soul of the boy, who was forced to be strong, overcoming the fear of being alone. I have been on a magnificent adventure since leaving the City in ’87.
When it comes to our lives, I can’t think of a word worse than regret. Undoing what has been done defies all the laws of nature. Going backwards is not a gear on our life transmission. My perspective on most everything has changed as I have gotten older. I know it is not a matter of being more forgiving, the equivalent of looking away. Compassion is one of those words that grows in size and influence with the passage of time. My heart is stronger, but not the stress test kind. I don’t want to be anyone else and would change nothing, because imperfection is unavoidable, no matter what choices you make.
I can’t believe what I see around me. I definitely came to terms with not being nearly as bright as I thought I was when I looked down at the multi-colored, little piggy. You know, I would like to see a lot more humanity and a little less policy, from those who want to replace our current president. Life is never what you expect it to be, but I want to hear more about possibility. Breeding hatred and fomenting disappointment is what you expect from people, who haven’t learned to embrace their shortcomings.