Yikes, I turned 56 on Saturday. To those of you who called or wrote, thank you, even if your Facebook account reminded you to do so. This year my birthday fell on Yom Kippur, the Jewish day of atonement, and the day we fast from sundown to sundown. Having lost Mom, and Dad two years ago, I did a lot of reflecting about my charmed life so far, reminding myself that the time is long overdue to give back. I had a wonderful day doing nothing but potting around in the yard and at the end of the day, sitting on my boat, drifting out in the middle of our lake, reading the newspaper while Shauna read her book. I actually forgot how old I am and mistakenly assumed I was approaching 55. They tell me the brain goes as you get older. My how time flies when you’re a self-absorbed putz. And speaking of which …
I had a sober thought the other day - I have those every so often - when I heard about the passing of Apple genius Steve Jobs last week. He was also born in 1955, and now he’s gone. I am reminded of what that guy accomplished in his all too short life, so mortality, and the legacy we leave behind are the topics du jour. I have a tendency to compare myself unfavorably to my contemporaries, and this of course begs the question, what is success? I seem pre-occupied with this subject of late, because, having recently lost both my parents, and as I find myself reluctantly catapulted into “the next stage of my life,” I wonder what it is I will leave behind. Will it be one of my songs, which becomes the multi-generational anthem for the disenfranchised? Will I choke on my electric toothbrush, and thus become famous as the most bizarre and ridiculous example of how a person ever died. I’d like it to be something more noteworthy. Famous Buffalonian, Wilson Greatbatch, left behind the cardiac pacemaker as his legacy, and his invention has saved, and continues to save, millions of lives annually. Superstar Michael Jackson was scandal-plagued, and his death was bordering on tragic, but no one can deny that he was one hugely talented entertainer. Ted Kaczinski will probably be remembered throughout history as the murderous Unibomber, but someone can’t be a success if they simply achieve notoriety, can they? I suppose one could argue that he achieved the goal of being remembered, but I don‘t think Ted was focused on celebrity.
As I grow older, I intoxicate myself with the dream that I will be remembered for some notable, positive achievement, but as time marches on, that aspiration becomes eroded by my mediocrity. As the Tragically Hip so eloquently put it in the wonderful song Ahead by a Century, “with delusions of someday, casting a golden light/ No dress rehearsal, this is our life” I suppose the notion with which I can now comfort myself is that everyone is a success who has friends or who leaves the world a better place than when they arrived. Maybe this is simply a rationale for my relative failure, compared to Steve Jobs, but it works for me. Relatively speaking we’re all just specks on the head of a pin anyhow, right? This morning, as I sat down to write this week’s babblings, I read an email link that someone had sent me. It was Steve Jobs speech to the 2005 graduates of Stamford University, and it was inspiring. One line in the speech stuck with me: “Stay hungry, stay foolish.” I don’t know what kind of a person Jobs really was, but his attitude and his focus were remarkable.
When I saw Neil Young play Massey Hall a few months ago, the first performer was Bert Jansch, who was I believe one of the founding members of a group I used to listen to called Pentagle. When I saw him play, it brought back fond memories of my college years. Jansch died in London last week of lung cancer, and I suppose the performance I saw was one of his very last. He was very good, and well received, given the legend for whom he was opening. I thought about that performance today, as I woke up to finish this week’s report. Music is a gift, and thank you Mr. Jansch for your performance(s). As the autumn leaves paint a Van Gogh painting on the shores across the lake, and as one generation passes the gauntlet to the next, I am for the moment at peace with myself and the world around me. This is a rare feeling, and I pray for the sustainment of this moment.
Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2011 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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