I
fondly remember walking to school in my youth. My sister and I would leave our
house and along the way, every kid in on the block would come out and join the
growing caravan. It’s a fond memory now, but I do recall not being very happy
about it when I came to realize that there were OTHER kids whose parents drove
them. Every day. It wasn’t so bad on
nice days, but thinking back on it, there seems to have been an inordinate
amount of inclement weather in my youth. Memory is a funny thing; I remember
endless summer days filled with neighborhood games of “kick the can,” “Hide and
go seek,” and “Mother may I.” I can easily recall that bright sunny day when I
conquered my fears and other personal demons by jumping off the high dive board
at the neighborhood pool. I
nostalgically reminisce about hours upon hours of quality and formative time
spent with good friends. (Cue mental soundtrack: Those were the days, my friend.) I also remember walking to and from school in the
wind, rain, sleet and snow. (Up hill, both ways…..)
The worst of it was those bitter
cold days. I didn’t have a back pack so I had to carry my books. My fingers
would get so cold the pain was almost more than I could bear (or so I thought;
the truth is, I probably had a very low threshold for pain back then.) I never
actually got frostbite, but my young mind was convinced that I was in danger of
it. I would switch sides with the books when it got to be too much, keeping one
hand in a pocket at all times; but that would happen more and more frequently
as I began to wonder if the path to school somehow got longer since the day
before. Inevitably someone would start a game or talk about last night’s
episode of a favorite TV show. I remember pretending we were a “choo-choo”
train chugging all the way to school. We would always get involved in something
and I would get distracted. Before I knew it, I was in class and beginning to
allow my mind to wonder off from the lesson. I would suddenly realize that I
was safe and warm and dry. I would look at my hands and think about how they
hurt so much before and how I had forgotten all about the pain. The intervening
time between the bitter cold walk to school and that moment in class had
somehow flown past so quickly that it seemed amazing to me.
It soon became a mental tool that I
used to help me during those long treks through the desolate arctic wastelands
that I had to pass through each day. “Before you know it you’ll be sitting in
class, nice and warm, looking at your hands in amazement.” It was a comforting
thought. I began to wonder if I could somehow skip the intervening time and
just jump to that moment right then and there. I tried it; It didn’t work. I
still had to physically walk the whole thing in real time - nonetheless, I
think I deserve credit for developing the concept of fast forward.
One bitter cold midwinter morning
at that moment when frostbite was beginning to set in and the despair of the
long journey that lie ahead was once again realized, I turned to my comforting
thought. “Before you know it, you’ll be sitting in class….” But then I had
another thought. It was a terrible, horrible, awful and very frightening
thought. I didn’t realize it in that moment but it was also a gloriously
beautiful, wonderful, and for me a very life-affirming thought. I stopped right
there in the cold for just a moment before the wind urged me to carry on,
reminding me in its way not to delay. As if in response to my comforting
thought, my interior voice said “Yes, and before long, you’ll be an old man,
lying on your deathbed.” There’s no way to sugar coat it; that was the thought,
and I could not un-think it. That moment has stuck with me my whole life; to
this day it often causes me to pause briefly along the way. This is my “Memento
Mori” and I carry it everywhere I go.
I stood there for half a second as
I caught my breath; the wind pushed me forward, and so I continued on my way.
It was such a quick moment that I don’t believe my sister or any of the
neighborhood kids that were with me even noticed that I had briefly paused. I
stopped trying to “fast forward” my life for fear that I might miss the mark
and go too far. Many years have come and gone since then, and a lot of water
has passed under the bridge. If I had to pick a single point in my life, I
think it was then that I began to understand the importance of appreciating
every moment that I was given.
Of course, I didn’t fully grasp the
significance of this sudden revelation until later in life; it was a map, if
you will, that unrolled as I matured. An ancient map, beautifully and
artistically decorated, that plotted a course which I must follow. Its many
rich hues becoming visible only after my vision acclimated to the ever changing
landscape that is my life and my journey, and it continues to reveal its
secrets to this day.
It must be said in no uncertain
terms that this was not for me, a call to hedonism; no - it was more profound
than that. The certainty of death demanded that there be something to show for
having been here. So I did not hear the imperative to “eat, drink and be merry,
for tomorrow we die” nor did I understand it to be the “carpe diem” in the
sense that it is so often understood. That
having been said, it must also be understood that I never dwelled on the end
either; it was clear that there was to be an end, but the details have always
remained hidden. My map – my Memento Mori - has been for me a reminder always
to dwell on the present and to appreciate what beauty there is in it. In my
experience, I have learned that there is no greater beauty than to experience
love in its purest forms.
I did a lot of walking in my youth.
My mother didn’t drive and family circumstances precluded me from being one of
those kids that got rides everywhere they went. I never let that stop me from
doing what I wanted to do, though. If I couldn’t get a ride from friends, then I
walked. Let me tell you, there were a few epic walks, too. My range increased
as I got older. I also rode my bike, but not as often; there was the risk of
theft and having the bike diminished the possibility of getting a ride home. So
I walked. There were moments when I have to admit that I resented having to
walk so much. A beautiful day suddenly turned dark and stormy; and more than
once I arrived at my destination drenched to the bone. In my anger and
frustration, I cursed my situation many times, but quite frequently, somewhere
along the way I would return to my Memento Mori. There is beauty to be found in
a desolate golf course (a convenient short-cut) after dusk. In time, I
discovered that there is always beauty to be found, if you know that you’re
supposed to look for it.
Eventually, I got my driver’s
license; considerably more eventually, I got my first car. Wow, what a quality
of life enhancement THAT was! I could go anywhere and get there on time. Could is a funny word; I could get to places on time, but I didn’t, actually – not always. Well, that’s
beside the point; I could travel in almost any weather and I had virtually unlimited
range. So where did I go when I wasn’t getting to work late? Well, work and
social life aside, when I had quality alone time, I got in my car and drove to
the Muttontown Preserve. I might also have driven to one of the Greenbelt
trails on Long Island or even caught up with the Appalachian Trail somewhere in
Connecticut, New York, or Pennsylvania.
Yes, one of my favorite things to do was to get in my car and drive
someplace so I could go for a walk.
Sure, I appreciate those toasty
warm, sunshiny summer days; who doesn’t? But never was it ever such an
uplifting, rewarding - and even spiritual - experience than if it was a rainy
day. I had come to enjoy walking so much that I used some of the money I earned
from getting to work late to buy waterproof hiking boots, gore-tex rain pants
and a lightweight rain jacket. I could go hiking comfortably on a cold, wet and
rainy day. I loved this! The trails were not so crowded on those days, and
if by chance you happened to pass someone along the way; you knew that they
were a kindred soul. We might pass each other without saying a word, but we
would exchange a knowing smile as we connected on some ethereal plane. And what
a sublimely beautiful experience it is to find oneself alone, deep in a snowy
wood, listening to the sound of snow falling all around you.
As I hiked along my favorite
trails, - trails which time and repetition had committed to my memory, I
frequently thought about bigger life issues. I solved a few problems in this
way and I came to terms with other issues that I could not solve. I began to
think of my hikes as a metaphor for my life. All in all, it has been a
wonderful mix of experiences. There was a lot of nice and easy, smooth and
level ground. I’ve traveled some hilly terrain and I have had a few rough and
rocky climbs. There were highs and lows; there were sunny days and there were
stormy days. Along the way I met a few people - some that walked along with me for
a while, and others who just happen to cross my path now and again. There were
some that I met only once, but that remain in my heart and my thoughts. I have
experienced the sublimely beautiful and most importantly: Most importantly, I
have loved. I have loved: this, the one thing that gives meaning to my journey.
And so this thing that I had at
times despised in my youth has become for me something that I have no words to
adequately express. You see, having traveled a few roads that I would not have
chosen to travel as well as many others that if given the chance to, I would
joyfully chose again; I knew all the while that I could not long remain on any
one of them, so I paused long enough on each one in the hope of recognizing the
fleeting beauty of it all. I found beauty in the most unlikely places, and I
learned to be Thankful for all of it – good and bad. I have learned that every
trail has a trail head; each journey has a journey’s end. There will surely
come a day when I reach mine. In the
meantime, where ever I happen to be headed and no matter how inclement the
‘weather’ might happen to be, I remember my Memento Mori and I remember to live
in the moment that I am given, and I love all the more.
