I've tried recording some thoughts from my car, but I never was able to quite get the tone right, so I'm just going to go ahead and write it. Also, I've said that I'm going to use the podcast as an account of my writing, and I'm embarassed to say that I've written absolutely nothing in the last couple of months. I never want to take a class during the summer ever again.
Anyway, what I wanted to talk about on the podcast is death. Specifically, mortality. Even more specifically what we DO in mortality. My grandpa passed away recently (my first attempt at recording that episode of TFaC was made while driving to my grandparents' house to say our last goodbye's with my family) and while it wasn't a total shock and surprise, it was different from the deaths of people I'd ever been close to. My other grandfather passed away seven years ago while I was out of the state, so the news was brought to me over the phone. I also had a cousin that died of a brain tumor when I was eleven or twelve, and a great-grandmother who passed when I was even younger, perhaps five or six. I have vague images in my mind of her before her death, many memories of my cousin Trent who lived in Idaho across the street from my other grandfather of whom I have the most memories. But, like I said, I was little more than a child when Trent died, and even though I was an adult when my grandfather died, I knew it was going to happen and we said our goodbye's to each other before I left home. While it was difficult accepting his death, I was so far away that it felt like it was happening to someone else's family, and they were just letting me know. It was sort of surreal. This most recent death, however, has left me somewhat damaged, emotionally. Not because of the separation from my grandpa, but because of the questions it raised for me.
I'm a religious person, it's true. I have no doubts about where we came from or where we're going. I have no question about what I'm supposed to be doing while I'm here. My question -- my fear -- is whether or not I'll be able to successfully accomplish that task. Everyone in my family has already accomplished amazing things. I have two brothers that got degrees from Cambridge in England. One got his MBA and his wife is working towards a PhD in linguistics, and the other got a Master's Degree in linguistics and is currently working as a stock broker (or something like that) in Barcelona, Spain. My other brother got a PhD in economics and is a professor at Texas Tech. My oldest sister is a full-time mom with three kids, and her husband received his Master's Degree in architecture some years ago. My youngest sister recently finished her undergraduate work in violin performance at Indiana University where she was studying with a 2/3's scholarship. She plays with the orchestra and is beginning her graduate work while her husband also goes to school. Not only that, but all of my siblings have found time to have children, as well. Though we don't have any children yet, my wife is working hard at her vocal performance undergrad degree while I'm barely a student. It's frustrating.
But what happens when we start having kids? What if I can't teach them as well as my grandparents taught my parents, and my parents taught me? My grandpa (both of them, really) have left behind amazing legacies, and, as I've shown, my parents' legacy is incredible, too. My greatest accomplishment is marrying my super wife (heh, my Super-Wife) but other than that, I've done next to nothing. I was thinking last night about my experience in martial arts, and I remembered when that was my dream. That I could make a living, have a career, being a martial artist. Even on facebook, my "about yourself" box on my profile is "When I'm not kicking something, I'm WISHING I was kicking something." Now, though, I can't even spare the time to go to Tae Kwon Do twice a week at the university for free. It only costs me my time, and I can't spare enough to make my one-time dream a part of my life. Can I really carve out a legacy for my children and grandchildren when my entire life is comprised of one failure after another?
Or perhaps I'm being too pessimistic. I did get my black belt which was a goal of mine since I was twelve. I married the most amazing woman I've ever met, and every day I spend with her is the happiest of my life. While those two things make up for a host of failures, they don't quite fill up the glass, you know? Maybe if the glass started half-empty, they'd go a long way, but the glass started completely empty. Now, half-full (or half-empty, whatever) would be a step up.
No matter if whether the sum of my accomplishments added to my failures total up to the red or the black, my question, my worry, my doubt still stands. Am I ready (or will I be ready) to raise a child when that time comes? I want to have children, don't get me wrong, but I don't want to screw up their lives like I screwed up my own. It wasn't the fault of my parents that I made the choices that I did, and I certainly don't want to be to blame if my children make the same choices. But how do I stop it? How do I make sure that my children are all raised as well as I was, or at least turn out as good as my siblings did? And what if I can't? What if I screwed myself up so much that the best I can do raising my kids is marginal? Sure I don't want to be like the Wal-Mart families (you've seen them, usually in the clothing aisles, parents grabbing their kids by the wrist or elbow and yanking back while shouting "C'mere!") but that really is rock-bottom for me. A crack house would be a lateral move from that.
So there you have it. Yeah, I'd love to be on the US Olympic Tae Kwon Do team, but I'd love to just be a part-time instructor somewhere, watching my students grow in skill and character. It'd be beyond amazing to write the next great American novel, but it would equally blow my mind if I could just finish one of my stories, and give it to my friends. I'd "settle" for making a million dollars or being offered a six-digit salary, but I'd settle for just having enough to put into savings every month and not have to worry about if the bills are going to be paid on time (true, I've actually been at that point for a while, but I'd also like to be able to not worry about extra, unforseen bills, like mechanic or medical). I'd be happy if my kids all grew up to get doctorates, win nobel prizes, and do all those things that I wish I could do. But I'd be happy beyond description if they just all grew up making better choices than I did. I didn't completely fail, you know. There were a few decisions I made in my youth and adulthood that I'm fine with, even proud of. But if I could watch my children grow, and know fully that they were going to exceed me on every front, even web design (heh heh), then there is nothing on this earth that could make me happier. Unless I could do that, AND play video games. Man, that would be totally sweet.
This hasn't been Thoughts From a Car, but my closing advice remains sound. In the car of life, keep your hands on the wheel and your eyes on the road. You never know what obstacles lay on the road ahead, just out of reach of the headlights. You may have to make a quick decision, a short burst of speed with some quick handling, and lives depend on it. Above all, stay safe.
