Regret . . .

A couple of weeks ago, a friend posted an article about the “37 Things You’llRegret When You’re Old.”  Well, I am old . . . at least that is what my children keep telling me.  I am old . . . if slowing inching beyond the double nickels is old, I am old.  Since I am old . . . and, since it is nearly the start of a new year and there is the annual obligation to improve one’s self . . . this article caught my attention . . . I wanted to know what the 37 things were that I should make every attempt at avoiding in my golden years.

I will attempt to keep this short . . .

Number one on the list . . . not traveling when you had the chance.  I can honestly say that since I rarely had the chance to travel, I really do not have any regrets about traveling.  Oh, there was that one chance that I had to go to England with my sister, but my mother got sick . . . we never took the trip.  Since then, my sister has offered me another chance at it . . . it just hasn’t panned out yet.  Besides, I live in a wonderful, expansive area of the world . . . Montana.  I have not even scratched the surface of where I live . . . there is so much to explore here . . . so much that I want to see.  I do not regret having traveled more . . . the fact is, I have traveled a lot more than the average person . . . and, the opportunities have not always been there. No regrets here!

Number two . . . not learning another language.  This one made me laugh out loud.  I am a typical American in that I have not yet even mastered the language of my heritage . . . learn another language?  First, let me master the one I am supposed to be speaking and writing now.  I took the obligatory couple of years of foreign language in high school and college . . . and, nope, I cannot remember a word of any of it.  My only question is: does sign language count?  Nope, no regrets with this one!

Number three . . . staying in a bad relationship.  Define relationship.  With all the relationships I have ever had, there has been good with the bad . . . the key to it all is how does one respond . . . how does one relate . . . to the situation whether it is good or bad?  It all adds up as experience and growth in the end.  I have always gotten something out of the relationships I have had . . . I have never slammed the door . . . there is always a crack in the door for what might be.  Nope, no regrets here either!

Number four . . . forgoing sunscreen.  I did not get the nickname “Casper” for having the best tan in the neighborhood.  This is a partially a vanity issue . . . partially a health issue . . . I cover up, wear hats, but I probably live life too dangerous . . . I don’t always remember the sunscreen.  It is okay because I do not have a problem with wrinkles . . . I earned them.  I have always had moles . . . they don’t bother me . . . they add a little color to my milky white skin.  Sunscreen as a regret—nope!

Number five . . . missing the chance to see my favorite musicians.  I got over that one after my senior year in high school after I missed seeing Paul McCartney and Wings one night, and Linda Ronstadt, the Eagles, and Jackson Brown the next night.  Yeah, free tickets too!  But, that is okay . . . I saw KISS, Fleetwood Mac, Elton John, David Bowie, Styx, Mott the Hoople, Areosmith, Joni Mitchell, Dave Mason, John Prine, and a few others during my senior year.  Since then I have seen countless others over the years with my last concert being the Avett Brothers a few months ago . . . I love music and will take what I can get . . . even if it is just listening to my church’s choir on Sunday morning.  No regrets on this one.

Number six . . . being scared to do things.  Okay, I will admit that there have been things that I have been scared to do throughout my life . . . but, I am still here.  Jumping off the roof of the house at age ten . . . glad I didn’t do it.  Get the picture . . . I am still here.  Fear has kept me here.  Nope, no regret here.

Number seven . . . failing to make physical fitness a priority.  I am too old for this stuff . . . my bones hurt just thinking about it.  I spent my whole life wondering if I was ever going to put weight on, and now that I have (granted it might be a little more than I should have) . . . I am going to keep it for a while.  Naw, I don’t regret doing a little more physical fitness . . . but, this one might end up snapping me in the butt!

Number eight . . . being defined by gender roles.  Number twenty-eight . . . letting myself be defined by cultural expectations.  Number fifteen . . . caring too much about what other people think.  Okay, I lumped these three together.  First of all, I really do not care to be defined by labels and generalizations like race, age, gender, etc.  I am who I am, as God created me, for better or worse . . . it does not matter what my gender is or what the expectations of my culture are or what anyone else thinks.  All that matters, in my opinion, is whether or not I am living up to who God created me to be.  God is the only one I have to please in this endeavor . . . and, the only way that is going to happen is if I live up to who God created me to be.  Nope, no regrets on these three.

Number nine . . . not quitting a terrible job.  Well, I have quit jobs . . . especially if they were not what I was expecting or I was not what they were expecting.  I do not have a tough time quitting jobs, but I never quit a job until I have another job.  That is about the only reason I have stuck with a terrible job longer than I should.  Quitting a terrible job is not hard . . . no regrets there.

Number ten . . . not trying harder in school.  Let’s see . . . thirteen years and a high school degree . . . four years and a bachelor degree . . . three years and a master’s degree . . . two more years and another master’s degree . . . countless workshops, conferences, retreats, seminars . . . no, I think I have worked hard when it came to my education.  No regrets here!

Eleven . . . not realizing how beautiful I once was.  Hmmm . . . never thought about this before.  I guess that is a matter of opinion . . . beauty is in the eyes of the beholder.  I have always thought of myself as “okay” . . . true, I am no Brad Pitt . . . but neither am I a Marty Feldman.  Besides, the older I get, the better I was . . . including my looks.  No regrets.

Number twelve . . . being afraid to say “I love you.”  I am probably guilty of this one . . . guilty because I just assume people know and understand that I love them.  I just don’t say it often enough . . . and, apparently, saying “ditto” is not good enough.  I do not regret this one, I just need to practice saying it more often.

Number thirteen . . . not listening to your parents’ advice.  Number twenty-two . . . missing the chance to ask your grandparents questions before they die.  Problem with this one is that I did listen to my parents’ advice . . . I did have the opportunity to ask my grandparents questions.  One got me into trouble . . . the other got me the request to go ask my parents.  If there is a regret it is that I did follow some of the advice my parents gave me (a bachelor’s degree in Speech Pathology), and I asked way too many questions of my grandparents.  No regrets.

Number fourteen . . . spending my youth self-absorbed.  Yeah, so what?  Name me one youth who didn’t.  It is a part of the journey of life.  I don’t regret my years of self-absorbsion . . . that is why I blog now.  Kind of trying to recapture those years of being self-absorbed.  Regret it?  No, I relish it because it has made me who I am today.

Number sixteen . . . supporting others’ dreams over my own.  Hey, look at number fourteen . . . no regrets here.

Number seventeen . . . not moving fast enough.  No one ever accused me of being a speed demon . . . when I ran or in life.  One of the symbolic gifts given to me throughout my life was the turtle . . . I have lots of these little turtles given to me.  Turtles are slow . . . turtles are anxious . . . but, they are wise.  Nope, I have never been accused of being fast and the speed at which I have moved through life has been perfect thus far . . . look at me today.  I am further along than I was yesterday, a year ago, five years ago, even a decade ago . . . shoot, I am kicking the crud out of where I was when I was born.  No regrets.

Number eighteen . . . holding grudges, especially with those I love.  Number twenty-nine . . . refusing to let friendships run their course.  Number thirty-four . . . getting caught up in needless drama.  These three . . . well, I do hold grudges, but most of the people who I hold grudges against probably don’t even know it . . . so, I don’t waste a whole lot of time over these.  Nor do I worry about friendships running their course . . . nature seems to take care of that.  I don’t need the drama.  I avoid these with a passion . . . I don’t regret when they happen . . . I just get pissed off that I wasted any time with them.

Number twenty-one . . . neglecting my teeth.  I brush several times a day.  I floss . . . well, I use toothpicks . . . and, I cannot stand dentists.  But, I take care of my teeth.  Again, this is partly a vanity issue, partly a health issue.  I don’t worry about this . . . no regrets.  My chompers still work quite well, thank you.

Number twenty . . . not volunteering enough.  Have you seen what they pay me to work at the university I work at . . . pretty close to volunteering.  I don’t buy this one.  Nope—no regrets.

Number twenty-three . . . working too much.  This one made me laugh out loud a second time . . . no one ever accused me of working too much.  What is to regret?

Number twenty-four . . . not learning how to cook one awesome meal.  Number twenty-seven . . . never mastering one awesome party trick.  The truth is, I can cook . . . whether or not what I cook is awesome does not matter.  I am still here.  I do have one awesome party trick . . . I can tie a cherry stem into a knot with my tongue . . . how awesome is that.  I have about as much awesomeness as I can handle in my life . . . I don’t need any more.  No regrets.

Number twenty-five . . . not stopping enough to appreciate the moment.  Shoot, life is too beautiful not to stop . . . no regrets here.

Number twenty-six . . . failing to finish what you start.  Unfortunately, I was raised to finish what I started . . . haven’t always successfully done that, but I try.  On the other hand, there have been a few things I wish I had started, but hey, Bill Gates didn’t like any of my ideas.  No regrets here either.

Number thirty . . . not playing with my kids enough.  As the children were growing up, I think the kids wish I didn’t play with them so much . . . that I go out and find my own friends.  Nope, I played with my kids plenty.  The problem is now they wish I would play with them more often.  But, I have no regrets here.

Number thirty-one . . . never taking the big risk (especially in love).  Define risk.  Each and every morning when I get out of bed . . . I am risking living.  Living is pretty big as the alternative is death.  I think that qualifies as being a risk-taker.  As far as love, well . . . it is not regret . . .

Not taking the time to develop contacts and networks . . . Number thirty-two.  Not a problem . . . I know people, people know me . . . now whether or not they are the “right” people, I don’t know.  What I do know, as an introvert, I have more contacts and networks than I want . . . I do not regret having more.

Number thirty-three . . . worrying too much.  Yeah, I do this.  I worry too much, but that worry has kept me alive.  I enjoy being alive.  No regrets . . . worry lets me know that I care.

Number thirty-five . . . not spending enough time with loved ones.  Hey, we are talking family here . . . what do family and fish have in common?  After three days they begin to smell.  I spend plenty of time with family . . . they may disagree, but we still talk to each other.  Nope, no regret.

Number thirty-six . . . never performing in front of others.  I am a minister . . . a preacher . . . who preaches at least fifty-two times a year.  No regrets.

Number thirty-seven . . . not being grateful sooner.  Yeah, there is irony in this one.  If you have read this far, you are probably wondering why in the world isn’t he done?  Well, the end is coming . . . I am grateful and have been grateful most of my life . . . and, now you can be too.

So, there you have it.  The thirty-seven things we will regret when we get old.  The bottom line is that of the thirty-seven things, only one was a “maybe” regret, and the other thirty-six were not regrets.  The only thing I did not mention was number nineteen . . . not standing up for yourself.  I probably do not do this often enough, but you know what?  In the end it all works out . . . maybe it is karma, maybe it is just dumb luck . . . but, things always seem to work out in the end.

The amazing thing about this list was that over  141 thousand people shared this list on Facebook . . . 549 thousand liked it on Facebook . . . six thousand tweeted it on Twitter . . . and, I wrote about it.  I think the problem is we spend too much time worrying about things no matter what age we are . . . we just need to live life, follow the adventure, and be all that we can be in the moment that we are living.  I do not want to enter into my older years filled with regret for things that do not matter.  That is a waste of time.  What matters is the present moment . . . that is all that any of is promised . . . the present moment.  I will not be making resolutions for the upcoming year.  I will stick to the one that I made years ago . . . I resolve to not make another resolution, but to live to the best of my abilities in the present moment.  We would all do well to do so.

By the way, I apologize for the length of this blog . . . but, I hope you get the point.  LIVE!!  Regret . . . nope!

Language of Regret

To feel sad . . . to feel disappointed . . . to feel repentant . . . over something that has happened or because of a lost opportunity.  That is a working definition of the word “regret”.  I imagine that there is not a single person in existence that does not know or understand what it means to regret.  I think that we are all familiar with the language of regret.

It is the autumn of 1971. . . football season.  The eighth grade class is divided into two teams.  I am a starting offensive tackle and defensive end on one of the teams.  We are combining the two teams to play a town down the road in a football game . . . a town where I once happened to be a student in the school that we are going to play.  I couldn’t wait for the opportunity to face my old classmates . . . couldn’t wait to show them—once and for all—that I was not that wimpy kid who they never picked to play in their games, always picked on, and pretty much was on the bottom of the pecking order.  I couldn’t wait to prove them all wrong . . . to rub it in their faces that they underestimated me.

But, I never got the opportunity.

There is no one that I can blame but myself for missing the game . . . the game of my redemption.  It was my fault that I skipped a practice to go and watch the freshman team play our archrivals.  It was my fault for missing practice and getting left behind when it came time to travel to my old school to play a football game.  There was no one to blame except myself . . . something that I did for a long, long, long time.  I was fourteen years old when I skipped that practice . . . missed that game, and it was in my mid-thirties before I forgave myself and let myself off the hook.  That is how the language of regret works . . . it weighs us down, keeps us from moving forward, and keeps us from growing up.

It would be wonderful if I could honestly state that missing that football game was my only regret in life . . . but, like everyone else, it is not.  I have had many regrets in my life.  Some I have gotten over rather quickly, others I have had a much more difficult time letting go of . . . it is those that have hindered my life the most. 

I believe that I speak for a lot of folks out there when I say that I am my own worst enemy.  I can hurt myself more than any other person in my life can . . . I can provide myself with a greater beating than anyone else ever could . . . and, I am usually the last person to let myself off the hook when I have screwed up.  But, that is the power of the language of regret . . . especially when we allow it to cripple us to the point that we can no longer be happy . . . no longer grow.  I don’t need anyone to tell me when I screw up, I usually know it the minute I do it . . . trust me, I have nearly six decades of experience.

Should of . . . could of . . . would of . . . language of regret.  If and only . . . language of regret.  Ever hear those words escaping from your lips when you are talking.  If so, then you know the language of regret.  Ever feel that twinge that comes when someone mentions an event from your past . . . something you wish you could go back and do differently?  Language of regret.  Ever catch yourself beating and berating yourself because you wish you had done things differently than you did . . . even ten minutes ago?  Again, language of regret.

The language of regret is all around us.

I hear it from myself.  I hear it from others around me . . . friends and acquaintances.  I hear it from my family.  I hear it all of the time.  It is in those moments of hearing the language of regret that I realize what a massive roadblock it creates in all of our lives.  We are immobilized in the past . . . stuck in a time that we cannot change . . . and, we are unable to move on.  I have experienced it and seen it . . . and, I have known the hurt that it creates.

I am not really sure what prompted my letting go of the regret of missing that football game when I was in the eighth grade.  All I know is that I came to the realization that I needed to quit whining about the past . . . especially since no one was serving cheese with my whine . . . and, to get on with the present moment.  I screwed up . . . it was my choice . . . I received the consequences of my choice . . . I missed the game . . . I missed the opportunity to set the record straight . . . I was the one who blew it.  There was no one else to blame.  I had wasted over sixteen years of my life kicking myself in the butt. 

The point is, I learned my lesson when I was left off the roster for skipping practice.  I never, ever, again missed another practice in my life . . . ever.  But, you would have thought that I never learned anything when the language of regret was stomping around in my rock garden—in my mind.  And, that is the weight that comes with the language of regret . . . we weigh ourselves down with something that we cannot change.  It is over.  The damage is done.  The bigger question is: did we learn anything?

Well, as I approach the sixtieth decade of my life, I have learned that regret is not worth the effort.  It is not worth the time and energy that most of us put into it . . . why?  Because we cannot go back and change anything.  The real power of regret is in whether or not we learned anything from the choices that we made or the experiences that we had.  Did it help us to grow?  If we cannot see regret as an opportunity to learn, then it becomes a cancer that eats away at us psychologically and spiritually to stunt our grow to be who God created us to be . . . all because we cannot let ourselves off the hook.

Well, if you are wondering, we won the football game that I missed way back there in eighth grade . . . won by two touchdowns.  I had nothing to do with it.  No, I sat at home . . . moped about blowing it.  That was a long time ago, but I will be damned if I am going to waste any more of my time regretting it.  There is too much life yet to live to be mired in the past.  It is a tough lesson to learn.  Where is the language of regret miring down your life to be who God created you to be?  

No Matter How Hard You Try . . .

One of the biggest regrets of my life came my senior year of high school.  The year was 1996 . . . the bicentennial of our nation . . . an election year.  One of the presidential candidates was Jerry Brown, the then governor of the state of California and also the boyfriend of Linda Ronstadt.  My children talk of having “man” or “woman” crushes on famous celebrities . . . one of mine has always been Linda Ronstadt.  She has been one of mine since I started listening to music . . . through the Stone Ponies . . . through her rock-n-roll years . . . through her “Trio” years with Emmy Lou Harris and Dolly Parton . . through her big band era . . . through her Mexican heritage period . . . and, even through her brief dabbling in punk music . . . Linda Ronstadt has always been one of my favorite singers of all time. 

My senior year of high school . . . 1976 . . . she went campaigning for her boyfriend, Jerry Brown.  With the Eagles and Jackson Browne she hit the road to raise money through concerts for her boyfriend’s campaign for the presidency.  That was the first year I could vote and he had my vote . . . I don’t know what his platform was, but if he was good enough to have landed Linda Ronstadt as a girlfriend, he had my vote and admiration.  The fundraising trail made its way all the way to the suburbs of Washington, D.C., where I was a senior at Wheaton Senior High . . . it was a concert that had three of my favorite performers and I had a free ticket to attend.  My crush, plus two of my favorite musical artists and bands . . . I was in seventh heaven.

Unfortunately, the unscheduled concert coincided with the school play.  The school play . . . How to Succeed In Business . . . of which I was the stage manager was showing on the same night as the concert.  Actually, I had two free tickets that weekend of the school play . . . the Brown fundraiser and Paul McCartney and Wings Over America . . . neither of which I got to see.  The school sponsor wouldn’t let me go . . . I was needed.  I have regretted missing that opportunity for over . . . well, more years than I want to count.

This past year, another of my music idols—Judy Collins, I had the opportunity to see in concert in the big city near us here in Montana.  It was wonderful, and that was always the hope with Linda Ronstadt . . .  that I would get to see her in concert before either one of us died.  Oh well, I live well with regret . . .

The article I read stated that the diagnosis was devastating.  In a brief statement on the AARP website, Linda Ronstadt announced that  she could no longer sing due to discovering that she had Parkinson Disease.    “I was completely shocked.  I wouldn’t have suspected that in a million billion years,” she wrote.  As a result, she said, she “can’t sing a note.”  No matter how hard she would try . . . she could not sing a note.  “No one can sing with Parkinson Disease,” she said, “No matter how hard you try.”  Regret . . . my regret.

I have always been more inclined towards female singers than male.  There just seems to be a more earthy, honest, and emotional quality to their singing.  They seem to touch my heart more . . . and, Linda Ronstadt is one of the purest voices I ever heard no matter what the genre of music she sang.  It was a voice that was pure and true . . . and, it did not matter whether she was singing songs written just for her or in the cover of some other famous artist . . . she was the voice.  Plus, as a male adolescent, she was a pleasure to look at.  A “man” crush.

No matter how hard you try . . . you cannot stop the passage of time.  Time waits for no one.  The theory of entropy is all things break down over time . . . all things.  The body is not immune to this breakdown no matter how well one treats his or her body . . . it is a part of the journey of life.  In T.H. White’s writing about the King Arthur legend he emphasizes this in Merlin the Magician.  In the story he tells “Toad”, the child King Arthur, that he is reverting back to his childhood . . . that he is going back in time . . . going back in time the older he gets.  The bottom line is simple . . . we all wear down . . . our bodies break down . . . we lose what we have had.  Linda Ronstadt’s body has broken down . . . she can no longer sing.  Regret . . .

It is funny the things that make us stop and pause in life . . . it should be things like the 50^th anniversary of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.’s speech in Washington, D.C. that is about to be observed.  It should be things like a massacre in some foreign land . . . a major weather related devastation, but in the end it seems that it is often more simpler than those crises or celebrations.  Sometimes it is the news of one of our favorite singers—one of our “man” crushes—losing their voice due to time.  The news of Linda Ronstadt’s health was one of those for me.

Good music rubs off on the soul.  As my children grew up they were exposed to much of the music that the wife and I enjoyed . . . seemingly they had to endure the “old fogey” music.  But, good music touches the heart no matter how “old” it might be . . . so it was for my daughter who grew up listening to her father play his eclectic music.  It was at her wedding that she selected the solo to be one of my favorite Linda Ronstadt songs, Feels Like Home.  It was not only officiating my daughter’s wedding that brought tears to my eyes, but the flood of memories of hearing that song echo throughout the sanctuary.

I join in the thousands, possibly millions, who express their best wishes and prayers that Linda Ronstadt is able to cope with Parkinson Disease . . . her voice—for now—now might be silence, but the echo of her legacy as a singer fills my heart.  No matter how hard you try . . . she will always be a part of me.  I wish I had had the guts to skip the school play . . .  

Listen . . . . http://youtu.be/Yy22lxsjimU