That’s Kristen Howe. I subscribed to her newsletter. I figure, what can it hurt?
My wife – whose judgement I trust completely – says I am a knucklehead.
Doesn’t help she is a left-handed blonde dyslexic genius.
I spend a large percentage of my time thinking about nothing particularly interesting.
Like the past six and a half decades.
Or being me now here at this age.
The other night I mentioned to Topaz an old vow of mine.
“I never want to be fat or stupid or poor,” I told her. “Two out three ain’t bad.”
To which she responded, “You mean to tell me you have money hidden somewhere?” You can see what I am up against.
But that’s not important. I completely ignored Kristen’s reference to my magnificence.
Might’ve made a silent chortle.
I would have to redefine the word in my own mind.
Which I think I think I have been thinking about.
How to be magnificent now? It’s a dilemma.
But I think I can handle extraordinary. Yeah. Extraordinary has more range, more vacuity.
Extraordinary is completely open to interpretation.
More of us can aspire to extraordinary than those who might seek magnificence.
But how to be extraordinary?
George Eliot once said, “It’s never too late to be what you might have been.”
Winning time is a phrase which somehow resonated with me as I tried to juggle a half dozen televised sporting events.
March Madness indeed.
Winning time is the 18th hole, it’s the bottom of the ninth inning, it’s the final straightaway before the finish line, it’s the last second shot to force overtime, it’s the televised final table.
Winning time is the crucible of the extraordinary.
What does winning look like? Obviously, winning looks like victory, getting to the end with the most points, the chips, the most runs.
But I cannot help thinking winning is also about making the attempt, taking the last shot, making the big bluff.
Winning is being willing to take the result of the contest on your own shoulders.
What does winning look like at sixty-five years of age?
Hell, just getting here is its own victory. But there must be more.
I have come to believe – speaking personally – old age is winning time. It has to be.
It is never too late to be extraordinary.
The willingness to try – all by itself – will keep you young.
***
Epilogue. A diamond is just a lump of coal that handled stress exceptionally well for a very long time. Some six or so years after getting that letter from Kirsten Howe, I can tell you I am about worn to a knubb.
But still hoping to shine.
