Why not?...

“Some men see things as they are and, and ask why. 

I dream of things that never were and ask why not.

– John Kennedy

He was a man short in stature, but if personality and intellect count, he was a giant amongst his peers. It was the late 1980s and I was teaching at a small liberal arts college in Jefferson City, Missouri.  A busy orthopaedic surgeon, he was looking for a ghost writer, and I became his man. At least that’s how it started.

Between his surgical practice, medical consultancy, and business interests, there wasn’t much time left in his schedule. He had wanted to write an education book for his patients for a number of years. There had been several false starts with other people before I entered the scene…it just didn’t get done.  In essence, he bought my time. Six months later the book was published and in the hands of his patients.

I had never met anyone like him. He was smart and productive and he taught me that considering the possibilities was a powerful key to success. He wasn’t just a work assigner, but a mentor, teacher, and encourager in all areas of my professional life. He introduced me to a world I did not know existed. It was from him I learned the importance of embracing the unknown…not in a reckless way, but to look at and for new ideas and opportunities. He taught me the value of saying, “Why not?”

Stepping away…

As children we were inherently curious. Our worlds, in the early years, were one unknown experience after another. Everything was new, with few internal boundaries. Of course, life requires structure, and so as we grew, it was the ‘no you can’t’ that helped us learn we could not do everything we wanted. Growth came from curiosity and imagination – the ‘why nots’ of life.

It isn’t always the case that we continue ask ‘why not.’ When I taught at university, most of my colleagues were in  “Why would you do that?” bureaucratic mode. Consistent “why” mentalities and narratives suppress creative thought. The academic collective became too burdensome.

As a result, a fellow faculty member and I formed a small consulting company called Value Life Associates. We took the things we had learned in teaching and in life and applied them to a health and lifestyle business. Our days were filled considering new ideas and looking for ways to get them done. While we did not consciously mull over the ‘why not’ question, every time we broached something unknown, we evaluated whether we should do it or not. Most of the time we moved forward. It was a great time.

Stepping back…

In the beginning, Dr. ‘R’ gave assignments and checked my work. As time progressed, my job was to bring him new ideas and potential projects.

“Ted, come on in and have a seat,” he would say. “What do you have for me?”

I’d run through a short list of items…tasks completed and considerations for new things. He would consider what I even thought might be outrageous notions, yet seldom dismissed them out of hand.  It was the first time I had been around someone who had the resources and fearlessness to discuss and think about practically anything. A lot of projects never happened, but a lot of them did. His mind set could not have been more different than what I had experienced in academia.

The time I spent with Dr. ‘R’ changed everything about my life and the way I look at things. His enthusiasm, intellect and willingness to consider almost anything was the launching pad for the rest of my professional career. His mentorship and the people I met through this remarkable man’s example continue to shape my life.

“Why not?” Simple words and yet they represent a doorway of through which almost everything meaningful in life happens. “Why not” suggests forward leaning. These uncomplicated words have provided the courage to go places and do things I would never have considered in my wildest dreams. Failures? Sure. But failures are the best teachers. They bring wisdom and thoughtful deliberation for the next door, behind which is the subsequent unknown.

The next time you find yourself with a new opportunity, rather than saying, “Why should I do this?” Try saying “Why not?”

ted

The setting sun…

“But those who look for all happiness from within can never

think anything bad which nature makes inevitable.”

– Marcus Cicero: Treatise on Old Age

To be clear from the start and for many reasons, this is the best time of my entire life!

  

A few thoughts…

I have several photos, etchings and various other artwork on the walls of my little office. Additionally, other small pieces of memorabilia remind me of people and travel to distant lands.

My favorite and centerpiece is a 34”x22” charcoal depiction of a skeleton done in 2001 by a friend, Marilyn. I love this drawing for a couple of reasons. In the first instance, my professional training in exercise physiology provides a great appreciation for the comprehensive skeletal framework upon which we as human beings function. Secondly, it suggests a character in thoughtful repose. Talented from a youngster, she continues to work out of her home studio on the West Coast of Florida.

On the bottom of the frame, I have attached a small sign with eight words that I look at and think about nearly every day. They are: 

I love these words for a couple of reasons. In the first instance, they remind me of how powerless and powerful I am. Powerless because as an individual, I have little influence on anything other than my ability to accept/reject (yes or no) ideas, reflect on the sensory input I get (sight, sound, taste, touch, smell), and the opinions I formulate.  Powerful for the very same reasons. Secondly, they act as the framework upon which my life is guided.

In my mind, the drawing and words have great synergy.

Every morning when I turn on the computer, I see these reminders that life moves on. There are no shortcuts, no coasting, no settling in as the final year’s drift toward the end of my journey.

The opening...
This morning I sat outside waiting for the sun to poke its rays from behind the edges of the Catalina mountains to the east of our home. Drinking coffee and looking for the dawn, these words stayed with me a little longer than usual.

Sunlight comes slowly here, bringing to life the earth tone greens and browns of the Sonoran Desert. At first light, the detail of the mountain's rocky face is obscured because the light comes from behind it. Even as the sun begins its climb, the mountain is shrouded in grayish tones.

The rising sun from the east shines directly against the Tucson Mountains to the west. Their slopes are crisp and clear in the morning light. As the day proceeds, everything becomes bright and shiny.  Then as the sun peaks and begins to wander west, detail on the face of the Catalina’s comes sharply into focus.

The closing...
The end of the day is my favorite. When we lived in San Diego, the sunset was ‘a happening.' People gathered quietly in small groups or by themselves along the Pacific shores and stayed until the sun slipped below the ocean’s horizon. In the encroaching dusk, they quietly drifted away to await the next evening's mesmerizing event.

In Tucson, desert sunsets are also beautiful. But rather than watching the western sky, I turn my gaze to the east. As the sun moves westerly, the Western Slopes of Catalina’s craggy cliffs are soaked in the light. The rocky faces and peaks take on orange and pink hues, gently fading into darkness with the sinking sun. Sharp detail dwindles into soft edges, yet the richness of watching it happen is surreal and breathtaking. 

The natural cycle…

This daily cycle is a metaphor for the life I have lived. As a child, despite the daylight of ideas and experiences rushing toward me, I was still shrouded in a kind of grayness that lacked clarity. In the middle and later years, I learned to make decisions and understood the consequences of life choices. I also came to appreciate that wherever I was at any moment was a result of thoughts I had accepted and acted on.

Life is full of challenges, but it is also full of joy…much of which has to do with the three sets of words above.

It is true I cannot run as fast, jump as high, think quite so quickly, but the setting sun on the western slopes of my mind are vibrant and clear – sometimes surreal and breathtaking. I have also noticed as the sun continues to set, some of the challenges in my life have taken on softer edges. I like that.

As I sit near the end of this day and this piece, let me repeat, “…for many reasons, this is the best time of my entire life!”

- ted

                                                                                                                         

A bigger man...

“Let us endeavor so to live that when we come to

die even the undertaker will be sorry.”

–  Mark Twain

“Hi Ted just got a valid number for you, and I want to reach out and tell you I'm sorry for being a jerk the last time I saw you...hardly a month goes by that I think about the good times we had...you're still a dear friend…”

The last time we saw each other was forty-one years ago. I felt a mixture of appreciation, relief and a tinge of haunting guilt. I had been sitting on Art’s number for better than a year.

The 1975 – that was then.

There was nothing I could say to change Art's mind. In fact, he was right. I watched as he and Dave got on their motorcycles and headed out.

___

After the Vietnam war, several us returned to Fort Rucker, Alabama. We were air traffic controllers and finished our last year of military service controlling helicopter pilots. Next stop for them was the foreign land we had most recently vacated. 

During this time Art and I became friends. He lived with a fellow named Jerry, and I lived a guy named Dave. When we weren't working, we spent our time hanging out, listening to music and partying together.

We all separated from the military, and after several months, I found myself back in university, where I stayed through graduate school in Missouri. One year during that time, I took a summer job in Chicopee, Massachusetts and organic chemistry at the University in Amherst. Art lived in the New England area.

We kept in touch, and during that summer he came a time or two. We had some adventures, most notably a bicycle ride in Nova Scotia after taking an overnight Ferry from Bar Harbor, Maine.

___

The next year, Art and Dave, took a cross-country motorcycle trip with a plan to stop in Canada at my family’s cottage. We coordinated calendars, and one day the two of them rolled in on their bikes.

Construction – destruction…

The story, and "…the best-laid plans of mice and men…," gets complicated here.

That summer, I had plans to build a family dock during my time at the cottage. I had been on a summer crew one year that had put docks in around the lakes. I was a gofer, so as a carpenter, I was a pretty good graduate student.

The project involved felling trees, stripping their branches and sawing them into ten-foot lengths. These were spiked together into a square; each new layer nailed to the one below. Because of the weight of the wood, the structure was built in the water, its buoyancy keeping the structure floating with the top of the latest layer just above the water line. This process was continued until the bottom layer rested on the bottom of the lake. The assembly was called a ‘crib’ with the appearance poorly constructed underwater long cabin. Once completed, 6" x 8"  (15 x 20 cm) beams were fastened to the top, and wooden decking laid.

I had been working alone with a couple of kids from around the bay helping from time to time. The only thought in my mind? Get the cribs in!

Complicating matters, some unexpected company had come for a visit – a common occurrence over the decades of summering at the cottage. The timing was not good because it was a huge distraction from the work. They left just as the boys got there, leaving me considerably behind schedule with school looming on the horizon.

Man, am I glad these guys are here. I thought They can help me finish this thing before I have to leave.

You know what it is like when your peripheral vision disappears because of focusing on things in the moment?  My Army buddies had just gotten to our place after riding hard. Instead of hanging out, telling stories and enjoying each other’s company, they entered Ted’s labor camp.

A couple or three days in, Art exploded. He let me know in no uncertain terms that he had come to visit a friend, NOT join an unrelenting work detail from dawn to nearly dark. He was leaving, and that was all there was to it.

His anger and impending departure brought clarity, but too late. Try as I could, there was nothing I could say or do to convince him to stay. He was furious, and rightfully so. He and the Dave got on their bikes, and that was the last I saw of Art. 

I got the cribs finished on the last day before heading I headed back to school. The truth is, without their help, it wouldn’t have gotten done – BUT at what cost??

Decades passed…

A couple of summers ago, I returned to West Virginia for my fiftieth high school reunion in Fairmont. Dave and I kept in touch off and on over the years. He was from Charleston, West Virginia, and by now was in the process of retiring from practicing medicine.

I came in early and drove to Charleston to see this fellow for whom I felt, and feel the greatest affection. It turns out he and Art had kept in touch over the years. I confessed how bad I felt about the whole deal. In his own no-nonsense and thoughtful way, he said, "I'll send you Art's phone number. You should give him a call."

“Yeah,” I said. “I really should do that.”

The number came, and for two or three weeks, I put Art's name on my calendar to call. It didn’t happen. Each day it got a little easier NOT to make the call – I mean, what was I going to say? Dave reminded me a couple of times via email and text, but I couldn’t pull the trigger.

Then this week out of the blue, my phone pinged. A text and photo appeared on the screen. It was Art...

“Hi Ted just got a valid number for you, and I want to reach…you’re still a dear friend…”

It is hard to express how I was touched. I thought about this old friend who had the courage – courage I didn’t have – to bury a hatchet and heal a self-inflicted wound – mine.

I returned a text along with a picture of Molly. As I hit the send button, the desert air smelled a little sweeter, and the sun seemed to shine a little brighter…

- ted