A boy I didn’t know from high school but know a little now, through an alumni group in the virtual world, who I’ll call “Mike” (since that’s his name) shared with his fellow alums that he only recently started practicing law.
“I had a very successful career,” he explained, “and now I’m doing something different…but it’s all gravy…I’ve already realized all of life’s promises.” He went on to describe the strength he derived from his faith…how his wife of decades still made his mouth water – how everything was beautiful in its own way…
At first I’ll admit that it seemed too good to be true, yet - I was happy for him, as I was never one to disbelieve fairy tales because in some parallel universe I knew that there were people who weren’t restless souls or who could adjust better when things were less than perfect. It’s a curse to think too much – one that’s been an affliction all of my life. That and my complete lack of athletic ability. I still have some hope regarding the latter, however; tennis lessons could help – or confidence. As for the former? It will never happen without a lobotomy.
So since Mike uttered that phrase “all of life’s promises” the words have been haunting me – insidiously…popping into my head at the oddest of moments. When I’m walking through crowded streets. When I’m painting pottery. When I’m out drinking with friends. What, after all, are “life’s promises”? And are they different from guarantees? Because I knew there were none – if any – of those to go around. Even “death and taxes” which according to cliché are the only two certainties in life – were no longer so black and white. As an insomniac, watching late night television taught me that John Edwards could speak to those who had crossed over and Ronnie Deutsch could negotiate IRS debt. It almost didn’t matter if what they said was illusory or misleading. Wasn’t everything in life illusion? Or is that “delusion”?
On days like this, in my search for an answer, I know that the only choice is to order Chinese for lunch. Anything worth knowing can be summed up in one line or less.
Whoever invented Twitter had the right idea.
Or not.
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