When we were growing up in America in the 1960's and 1970's we were told that we could be whatever we wanted when we became adults. We were told to dream and dream big. It was such a prominent ideal. We heard it from everyone. I fell for it. I dreamed. I dreamed big. I wanted to be a writer, a television producer and director, an actor, a singer, a songwriter, a screenwriter, etc. I wanted to change the world. I wanted to influence how people think. (Indeed, now when I start to tell people how I think and what I believe, my wife tells me to shut up.)
I have lately begun to realize that, for a lot of folks, dreams die after 50. It is the younger crowd that gets all the publicity, all the fame, all the glory. Society wants the potential and "promise" of greatness. Yet I can't seem to let go. I can't give up because of the futility that giving up would render. If I gave up my dreams my life would mean nothing. I would stand for what I am. A mediocre poet that could not rise above that level. So I trudge on. What else can I do? Perhaps that is my destiny, to be a mediocre poet.
We live out our lives in degrees of anonymity. By design or accident, or divine punishment. Our dreams may amount to nothing. At what point do you decide that you may never amount to much? At what point do you give up your dreams and get on with the stuff you have done. To paraphrase the dad's line from the movie "The Rookie", "it is ok to pursue the things you like until you find what you were meant to do." Problem is, what was I meant to do? Be a mediocre poet? Or just a mediocre tech writer?
While pondering these things the past few days I put the music on. I came across one of my favorite songs. Another sad story about a life spent in anonymity. It is not so hard to do. We can't all be famous. We must all try to be the hero of our own lives.
Enjoy this little song. I find it compelling, and truthful. The song is based on letters found in a grandfathers attic. Take from it what you will. Thanks for stopping by.
D.
Kilkelly, Ireland: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TaHhNi-f2G4
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2 comments:
Dave,
I listened to the song. No doubt when "John" read the letters and realised what he had lost he would have wished he had fulfilled the request to come home. Life at the turn of the nineteenth century would have made the realisation of that dream very difficult.
Is that the case today?
Maybe think about just one thing that you know you want to do and before you get to the point where it can't be done, do it. (You are, after all just pondering - you're not dead!)
It doesn't have to be something that changes the world, but it could perhaps change somebody's world - maybe yours, maybe someone else's. (Perhaps an act of generosity could make it possible for a "John" to be with his/her family. What could be more selfless/beautifuly poetic than that?)
"We live out our lives in degrees of anonymity" - you are very profound today.
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