When I was nine years old my mother grew tired of driving me to school each day and decided to let me walk.  It took me about twenty minutes.  At first I stuck to the sidewalks next to the road my mom had driven, but after a few weeks I discovered the thrill of cutting across vacant lots and walking over the hill instead of around it.

Those vacant lots had well-worn trails created by many who preceded me.  At the time, I didn’t think about them at all.  I simply followed their path.  Today I realize that in our lives we each follow various metaphorical roads that have been surveyed, constructed, and used by others before us.

For example, think about language.  None of us invented English, Spanish, or Chinese.  I am still amazed when I hear a three-year-old child, or anyone else for that matter, speaking French.  But imagine a world without language.  How would I ask my wife to scratch my back?  By grunting and pointing, I suppose.  How would we name our children?

How would I communicate my thoughts to you?  The answer is that I wouldn’t.  There would be no email.  Could I even ponder such things as “psychology,” “coronavirus”, or “Greek Salad” without having the tool of language developed by others before me?

When one of my sons was attending Dartmouth Medical School he mentioned that Nathan Smith, who founded the school in 1797, for many years was the sole administrator and instructor.  Imagine that – one person knowing and teaching all a medical doctor needed to know.  Years ago, when I had a specific medical condition and called the appropriate specialist, his office asked me just one question, “Right knee or left knee?”  The human body hasn’t changed much during the past two hundred years, but the body of knowledge and the practice of medicine certainly have.

When Europeans settled in America a large majority were engaged in farming.  Today most of us travel a different road of employment.  Many of us sit in front of screens and tap on keyboards much of the day.  I find that strange.

Aside from just being philosophical, there is a significant practical value to thinking about the roads we travel.  How else can we evaluate the many paths we follow in life – at work, at play, and in connecting?  How can we make the best choices or even evaluate our present path if we don’t give ourselves the freedom to contemplate?

Socrates said, “The unexamined life is not worth living.”  I wouldn’t go quite that far, but we all travel along so many roads and I believe that we benefit by occasionally standing up, looking around, and considering our journey.

Alan

When I was active in high school and college debate I used a lot of evidence to support my arguments and I often referenced or quoted an expert to back up my position.  During the years when I was actively involved in debate (1955-1961), no expert predicted the future beyond 1975.  Accordingly, that date became a kind of time-barrier in my mind.  I thought that after 1975 we would all metaphorically drop off the edge of the earth, like Columbus sailing to America.

A second time-barrier that I didn’t even think about then, or ever, was my 80^th birthday, which actually snuck up on me last week.  As a kid and teenager I didn’t know anyone that old.  In fact, anyone older than 60 was ancient.  Right?

No more.  I’m not ancient.  I’m just experienced.

Though I experience lower back pain when I walk, an occasional mental recess when I try to remember names or places, and difficulty hearing conversation in a noisy restaurant, I still feel great.

Seriously, though, it’s difficult for me to be serious about my age.  After all, my dad lived to be 104, and for the last 50 years he didn’t seem to be much older than I was.

On my 80^th birthday Daveen and I shared a memorable dinner with friends, and I started to think about the important lessons I have learned during the past eight decades.

1. Everyone has different preferences and values. Daveen and our three daughters are Vegans.  They could be right.
2. The only person who suffers when I get upset is me. So I am seldom bothered by anything I can’t control.
3. I am not in charge of what happens to me, but I am in charge of my reaction. See #2.
4. Many people care about me, as I care about them. That’s a large part of what keeps me going.
5. Different ages, different stages. I’m throwing out or giving away clothing and treasures that I’ve accumulated over many years.
6. I’ve led a complicated life.  Now it’s time to simplify and relax a little.  I prefer working an eight hour day rather than a twelve hour day.

Happy Birthday to you, whatever day of the year that may be.

Alan

When I was eighteen, I received a $1,000 bequest from my grandmother.  It was a godsend.  I used the money, together with all of my savings, to buy a new car.

My proud purchase was a metallic blue VW Bug that cost all of $1,800.  I had found the best price from a dealer eighty miles from my home. On the drive back, the Bug was really sluggish and wouldn’t go any faster than 45 miles per hour.  When I parked my new car on the street in front of my home I discovered the reason – I had left the emergency brake on during my entire trip.

Fortunately, no great damage was done, and once again I offer grandma my thanks.  Today I drive a Tesla that accelerates so fast it’s ludicrous. I’m not sure it has even heard of an emergency brake.

Now I’m preparing to distribute what remains of my dad’s estate which will go in equal shares to his eight grandchildren.  I’m sad to think that the sum total of what my dad accumulated during his entire 104 years on this earth now rests in a single bank account.  A long life, reduced to eight bequests to his closest remaining family.

Dad, is that all you, or I, or anyone else, leaves behind?

Absolutely not!  Your essential bequest is so much more.

You left behind immeasurable, non-monetary gifts, including the gift of life to your two sons and eight grandchildren.  You left behind unforgettable memories of travel. Our 14-day driving trip from Los Angeles to Victoria, B.C. when I was sixteen was my favorite. You left a legacy of wisdom. Whenever I complained to you about the problems of my business you would say, “If there weren’t problems they wouldn’t need you.” Mostly you left the treasure of your love for all of your family, your many students, and countless friends. Last year almost 100 students, friends, and family members gathered for the celebration of your life.

In a few weeks I will be mailing out eight checks.  While they will be welcomed by your grandchildren, I’m sure that when the reckoning of your value and contribution is totaled up, all of us will appreciate most your flair, your being there for us, and the many years we enjoyed together.

Thank you.  Each of us should be as fortunate in the bequests we leave behind.

Alan