Category: Thoughts About Life

I heard a joke once that went something like “I tried to live each day as if it was my last, but I eventually gave it up because I got tired of cancelling funeral arrangements.” Morbid, perhaps, but it gets to the root of the problem of really living each day as if it were your last. Now, nobody really says to literally do that, but it got me thinking. What would be the optimal time period?

I came up with five years. If I only had five years left, I couldn’t just quit working and screw off, but I would have a very enhanced sense of the preciousness of life. I would be working hard to complete certain short and mid term goals. I would be doing a better job at work because I’d want to make those last few years really count. I’d make some improvements to my health, both physical and mental, so that I could better enjoy those last five years. I would push my art farther and do better with it, because I would want to leave a lasting mark on this world. Then I wouldn’t feel anything was wasted.

As you get older, time seems to move faster and faster. You think you have forever in your twenties, then your thirties smack you in the face one day, and it only speeds up from there. So do more with what you have. Strive for fewer regrets. If you have a talent, develop it a little. Learn something new now and again. Let the people you love know it. Get out from behind the monitor now and again and look out at the world. Draw in a park. Take a walk.

I don’t want to wake up one day, finding myself eighty years old, and wonder where the time as gone, and realize that I did… absolutely nothing.

I want to talk about my mom and dad for a moment.

Both my parents have always been such a support to my art. Walking through the art supply store today, confidently knowing what I needed, what I didn’t, what I could save up for, I recalled the days when they used to scrounge accordion fold, tractor feed printer paper for me to draw on. I remember when new pencils or markers were a luxury, when paint was a thing rarely come by. I remember wondering what all those interesting tools were used for, and the joy of later finding out. Art is still a journey for me and I’m still learning, but I wouldn’t have had the confidence to do it without my mom and dad, who always thought I not only could be an artist, but that I already was one. They provided my foundation. My mom’s happiness whenever I did something new and my dad’s steadfast support are treasures I will never forget.

Now, I strive to get to that next stage. Beyond acceptable, I move toward good. And one day, who knows? Perhaps I will become great.

Who has supported you in your art or your favorite endeavors?

I work the phones. Sometimes I get frustrated but many times I love my customers dearly.

I spoke to a World War II vet a few months ago. That population is dwindling and it was a real treat to talk to him. He was quite sharp and had traveled, we got to talking. He’d been some places I’d been, and though I didn’t hear any war stories we connected quickly and parted friends.

Another day, there was a really nice lady who had lived in my town several decades ago. I was able to tell her what had changed, and what was different, and that some of the things she had loved so well about the area were still true.

And then there was the sweet-voiced Irish grandma who said “I want to talk to you next time,” and when I told her that it was random whom she’d get and we didn’t have extensions, hoped to talk to me anyway. A month later, I heard her again on the other line… she said “I wanted to get you, and I did.” It’s never happened before or since.

Many times I get calls from people expecting sto talk to omeone who is bored with their job, who doesn’t want to hear their stories, who doesn’t want to connect with them as people, who just wants to get it over with.

I love surprising them.

I spoke to a very charming and gracious woman who, over the course of our call, revealed that she had been playing piano and organ for many years. This was ever since she played for her first wedding, 64 years ago. While I completed her order, we talked about music… I confided that I’d always wanted to learn an instrument and she said “you sound young, you always can.” I suppose I am. At 35 I don’t feel young anymore. But she ought to know… we spoke of bagpipes and their beauty, and how we’d both wanted to learn them at one point. As I closed the call I thought about what she said. The book isn’t closed.

You are still young.

You still can.

What skill have you always wanted to learn?