There are few things for which I wish for the old child hood "do-over". Certainly a child like concept. Whenever the veracity of an outcome was in question (or not to everyone satisfaction), someone would shout "Do-over", and everyone would pretend like the moment in question had never happened. So, the topic du jour is those few moments whereby I wish I could call a "Do-over". Why? Cause these are the only moments in my life that I wish I could change.
What we are talking about is regret. Since changing most anything in your life might keep you from being where you are..... I pretty much avoid saying what I would do differently if I were suddenly granted some secret wish to do my life over. But there are three occasions that I wish I had an opportunity to change......
I was a little surprised to notice that the moments I wish I could change are not moments that I did something needing to be corrected.......... but rather moments that I did nothing. Not acts of commission, but of omission. A lesson there? Probably. I think the things we most regret are the things we let pass by.
So, three times I let a moment get by me. Twice it was ignorance, and once, my earliest test of character, I failed to act out of cowardice.
To wash the slate, to offer whatever lessons are to be learned, and to explain to myself and those I love some of what has motivated me in my life I offer the following three instances of my having failed to live to my highest expectations.
First, I missed a family gathering. My Uncle had just passed away, it was my aunt closest to me in age (more like my big sister...... she had to put up with me through much of her early girl scouting experiences). I was newly wed, a new adoptive father, and it was not convenient. What a wonderfully selfish observation. Oh, everyone made it easy for me....... but I missed an important moment in our family. I should have been there. I have not missed many moments since then.......... but I truly regret missing that one.
Second event, my friend and his wife asked me to be Godfather to their son. My best friend and his wife thought so much of me that they offered this honor....... and it was about the same time as my Uncles death and the same mental disorder seems to have continued its assault on my better judgement as I again offered the simple observation that I could not afford the trip at the time. It is true I had no leave, it is also true I did not have the money, but I should have been there. I let down a friend (no small thing in and of itself), but I also managed to pass on an experience that would have been potentially one of the high lights of my life. I grew up in a testosterone dominated home. I assumed I would continue to experience the same forever. But my life is dominated by estrogen. Besides my wife, my daughter, my grand daughters, my daughter-in-law......... even my wife's four cats are female. I am close to my Father, and my Brother, but my day to day existence is all female, and they occasionally hop on the estrogen express and ride my butt out of town. I have an adopted son, but he suffers from the terrible disease of narcissism, and there is no room for anyone else in his world. I have a grandson less than a year old.......... maybe I will have a male relationship with him. Still, my good friend offered me a chance to be a part of his sons life.................................. and in ignorance I passed. Today, I can only imagine at what I missed.
And lastly, the greatest moment of self disappointment in my life. My first personal experience of the truth found in "A brave man dies but once, a coward a thousand times." This truth has been attributed to Shakespeare, and to the wisdom of the American Indian. Regardless of where it comes from, it is true. I offer the following in recognition that I needed to learn the lesson personally.
In middle school (7th grade) I rode a bus to school. My Father was the principal at my middle school. This is important as it implied that I did in fact have some major allies if I had wanted to risk calling in the "big guns". It was on a bus ride to school that my first moment of adulthood and it's moral challenges arose. There was a young man who lived across the street from me. He was not particularly smart, he was not particularly athletic, and he was not socially gifted. Right, in the moronic insight of so many at that age, he had no right to live. I was not the largest on the bus (it is amazing how significant a year can be in a young mans physical development). The 8th graders tended to be physically intimidating to those of us a year behind. In the end it matters not how big I was. The bigger kids began to spit on the poor boy from across the street. I should have screamed at the bus driver, or stood up and informed them that immediately upon arrival at school I would be most proud to report each and every one of them to the principal. I should have steped back and busted one of the ones my size in the mouth, or even committed suicide and busted the biggest one. An ass whipping would have healed long ago...... the hurt is still there. As God is my witness I would love to tell you I did any one of those things, but I didn't. I sat there and watched as an innocent suffered insult not much different than what the Nazi inflicted. The spittle ran from the back of his head, and the bullies continued. I can not imagine the damage to that young mans soul.......... but I am well aware of what it did to mine.
Never again in my life have I ever stood by and let someone blatantly inflict insult on another. Not at the risk of my life would I ever suffer it again. It was as a boy that I sat there quietly and did nothing. No, it was not just the boy with spittle all over his back and shoulders the bullies destroyed that day. They took the innocence of another young man. I hate them for it.
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