As I moved through my teens into my 20s, my father foresaw that I had heapings of misery headed my way. When I wouldn’t heed his admonitions and insisted on my own way, he said, “Perhaps you’ll only learn through pain for I fear that life has some rude surprises for you.”
What did my father see for me that I didn’t?
For most of my life, up until February of 1988, it seemed to me that every year was better than the previous one and that growing opportunity and freedom would bring me happiness. And then I moved through my 20s into my 30s and 40s and now I can look back and puzzle out what my dad was on about. What did he see that I didn’t?
* That pursuing what I wanted before what God wanted for me would end in disaster. It turns out I’m the type of bloke who needs transcendent purpose in his life or he’ll go off the rails pursuing his lusts. I’m naturally all about me and what I want and what will advance my name. That hasn’t served me. I’ve made a hash of things. I’ve had to keep coming back to God after totally stepping in it and pledging anew to put Him first.
* That spending my health to get my wealth would result in me spending my wealth to try to get my health.
* I couldn’t talk to women like I talk to men.
* If I treated people carelessly, as means to my ends, they would resent that and hurt me. Nobody likes a know-it-all.
* My indifferent work ethic would not allow me to get ahead. I couldn’t only expend effort when it suited me, when the subject interested me, or I’d get stuck in minimum-wage jobs. Most advancement comes through personal connections.
* My father taught me that women are not lemons that you can squeeze and throw away. Women are not watermelons that you can drill a hole in to see if they’re sweet. Women are not mangoes that you can eat out and discard. Women are not apples that you can munch and trash. Women are not strawberries that you can cover with whipped cream and eat for dessert. Women are not a box of chocolates where you can take a bite out of each to see if you want more.
* I love a good gossip but it would never occur to me to say to somebody, “Did you know what Joe said about you?” I never do this but I see it done all the time. If somebody says something to me in confidence, I protect it. If I didn’t, I would never have any sources. What happens between Joe and me, I keep that to myself. I sometimes have friends who are feuding and I simply keep quiet about what each says to me. There’s a circle of trust. I feel terribly betrayed when I confide in one person and she tells it to another.
* Once a day, I like to lie back, close my eyes, listen to my favorite pop songs, and visualize myself running around Pacific Union College like I did in seventh grade. Back then when I jogged my 40 or so miles a week, I dreamed that one day I’d leave for the big city and my life would really begin. Now I live on my own in the big city and I dream about jogging around my insular Seventh-Day Adventist community of 1978.
I feel so many shades of sad. There’s the glaring exposure of running through sunshine when the whole world sees how alone you are. There’s the brooding darkness and fright of running through deep shade. There’s the bite of running through early morning cold when no one’s around and then there’s the struggle of pounding through the oppressive heat of the Napa Valley summer. And as I run, I think about whether I’m getting closer or further from the girl I like, Denise.
The meaning of every street I run down in my imagination depends on the amount of love on it for me. I’m an emotional vampire, seeking to suck the love out of life. People like me who are needy haven’t yet learned to care for ourselves so we can transcend ourselves in our care for others.
Even in seventh grade, I was aching for a love fix, though that was diminished once I connected to the Muths and was made an honorary member of their family. My God, it is such a beautiful warm sunny Christmas day in Los Angeles, and I’m lying back imagining running through seventh grade. Only now I can’t blame anyone. In seventh grade, I could blame my parents, my church, my school, my teachers, my classmates. Now it’s all on me. I wish I could accomplish something magnificent.
My basic state of mild depression hasn’t shifted much over my life.
