What Is Success? Continued

This is a continuation of Monday's post, prompted by a question from Ely. Thanks again, Ely.

Good Days and Bad Days

As I have lived my life, I have come to believe that one should cherish the good days that we encounter. As I view it, they are few and far between. In fact, looking back over my 50 years on this earth, I can think of only about a dozen days which I would consider "really good days." And that's not too bad, in my view. In the current world, it is difficult to ignore the bad and see only the good. At least it is for one who is hard wired like I am. You know, the kind of day that you will remember for the rest of your life. Sure, there are a lot more days when something good happens, or maybe a few good things. But, those don't count, at least not to me. I'm talking about days where every waking moment was simply special. Now, for those who I mentioned who choose to remain in the box, I'm sure that their good days likely outnumber the bad ones. I'm sure that they must believe that I am a miserable creature, limiting my perspective to such a small dose of goodness. But, I wonder if they can really enjoy, remember and appreciate the truly good days that I speak of, in the same way that I remember them? I honestly don't know the answer to that, and clearly never will.

Ely's story, about his friend who recently passed away, reminded me of one of the truly good days that I remember. I will not bore you with all 12 of my good days, but I feel compelled to tell you about this one. This event occurred some seven or eight years ago.

My wife, daughter and I were to meet our best friends at a small lake where my best friend’s father owns a trailer. We do this a couple of times a year. Build a campfire, have burgers, brats and dogs on the grill and just hang out. For some reason that now escapes me, our friends could not make it, but we trudged on to spend time with his parents. The lake contains very few fish, but we fish anyway in hopes of catching one of the dozen or fish that somehow survive the "catch and release" program. I had known for some time that my friend was in desperate need of some new paddles for his canoe and johnboat, so I purchased a couple and gave them to him as a gift. He was shocked, and grateful.

We were set, turned on the trolling motor and headed across the lake to the "hot spot," where we knew that at least one of the fish hung out. We told stories and laughed a lot as we casted until our arms were ready to fall off, without, of course, even getting a strike. Not an unusual occurrence at this lake. But, we weren’t there to catch dinner, but to talk and enjoy the beautiful scenery. Darkness was setting in and it was nearing dinner time, so we decided to head back to the trailer to begin the evening festivities of burgers, a campfire and chat. We had gone no more than 20 feet when the trolling motor died, so we were forced to paddle back across the lake. I looked down for the new oars, and they were no where to be seen. I asked my friend's father (also one of my closest friends) where the oars were, and he said "back at the trailer." I mentioned that I had spent good money on these oars and that they really weren’t going to do us much good sitting on the shore across the lake, and we began laughing. The next thing I know, my friend puts his fishing pole in the water and begins paddling like mad. Amazingly, we began moving. I was laughing, put my pole in as well and we were paddling our little hearts out. We probably topped out at 1 mile per hour, but hey, we were moving. At some point, I burst out in laughter and had tears rolling down my face. New oars sitting on the dock, and here we are paddling with fishing poles the diameter of an eighth of an inch. At some point during the journey, he scolded me, saying, "I’m doing all the work here, you are not even paddling." That simply brought more laughter and tears.

When we finally returned to the dock, our families told us that they could hear us cackling with laughter all the way across the lake. They were wondering if our mental elevators had finally reached the basement and weren't coming back up.

I tell this, knowing full well that it was probably one of those "you had to be there to really appreciate it" stories. But, Ely telling of his friend who recently passed away, made me think of it. My friend is getting up there in years, and who knows how many opportunities we will have to "fish" together again. He and his son are perhaps the finest people I know, and I will cherish that day and evening until the day I die. It was a small moment in time, but absolutely a good day.

Friends

I mentioned that I could count my "true friends" on one hand or at most a hand and a half. And you know? I don’t mind that. I am often preoccupied with things flying around in my head, and appear aloof to many people. I honestly don’t put a lot of emphasis on making friends, probably a fault of mine. For that reason, many people, some of whom I have known for many years, think that I don’t like them. This is not true, but that is the impression that is left with them. I can’t help how other people perceive me. Well, I could, I guess, but I honestly don’t spend a lot of time worrying about it. I am who I am, and one can accept it or not. I do not expect people to change themselves to make me feel better, and if they are waiting for me to change for their sake, they will be disappointed. I try to be polite to all, but beyond that, it is what it is.

I say this leading up to another thing that Ely said, about this collection of people who have gravitated to the Real Deal. I have no idea how this has happened. I have done zero advertising for this web site, have not spent one dime promoting it, yet a whole lot of people have found their way here. I have had people with their own web sites write and ask me how I have managed this, many saying that they might get 10 people per week at their sites. Unfortunately, I have no answer for them. I honestly do not know how you all found this place, but somehow you have, and we have stuck together. This leads to my point.

There are literally millions of sites out there, so many places to receive information and make comments. I know that a handful of you have come here from Alternet, though there aren’t that many. I also don’t recall, more than a time or two, ever mentioning this site on Alternet. I remember telling Stoney about it way back when, and maybe another person or two in personal comments, or as personal as they can be in a place like that. Yet somehow we have come together as one in cyberspace, a place called the Real Deal. Some have come and gone, but for the most part people who have arrived here have stayed through the long haul. I simply write what I feel, and am wrong as much as I am right. Yet we hang together.

It has been interesting for me to learn about each of you who email me personally and those of you who choose to make comments on the blog. There are a much larger percentage of people who read what is written but never leave a comment. Some of you who do not comment write me personal emails. This is much like talk radio, where the vast majority of people listen but never consider making a phone call to the show. In fact, the numbers of just such people are staggering. I still do not believe the number of people who visit here, on a near daily basis. Most never appear on the blog, but I feel like I know the ones who either do comment or send me information through email. Many of the things that I am sent I am already aware of, but some I am not. Let it be known, all of the things that you guys send me are appreciated. It keeps me on my toes and alerts me to things that are written in other places, things that without you I would not know about. Now to friends, which I believe was the point of all of this before I began some inane babble.

There is no doubt that what Ely said about all of us is true. If we were somehow a community, living in close proximity to one another, I’m sure that we would get along splendidly. Our views of the world are remarkably similar, and I find it astounding that we have somehow found each other on the internet. Some power beyond my comprehension has allowed this to occur. I have no doubt about that; something, for some reason, has brought us together. I can proudly say that, should we all meet someday, somewhere, I would need more than a hand or a hand and a half with which to count my friends.

What Is Success?

Combined with a few things from Monday's post, that, my friends, is success. Success for all of us. My hope is, that someday soon, we will find a way to meet one another, and figure out a way to survive whatever the world brings us, together.

Cyclone



"Now, we talked to Joan Hanover. She and her husband, George, were visiting with us. They are near retirement—retiring—in the process of retiring, meaning they’re very smart, active, capable people who are retirement age and are retiring."

George W. Boosh; Alexandria, Virginia; February 12, 2003
(naw, money and a name can't get a blithering idiot in and out of Yale & Harvard in good standing)