Standing Somewhere In The Middle of Life

Standing somewhere in the middle of life, looking ahead, yet looking back I tend to drift around in thought.

Ahead: I wonder in twenty years what will be the concern of the day. Who will be here to laugh with, who will be around to give that ‘can you believe that’ look to? What things will happen that I never imagine would or could happen? What will matter more then than any other thing?

Behind: I recall being less-hardened by the world, more idealistic and romantic toward things, but less aware of my own abilities in a realistic way, still not even coming close to comprehending how the road ahead of me then would shape me into who I am now and not understanding the things that really matter in life.

The other day I saw a photo of a group of older men, most of them in their 70s, some even older. They had gotten together and taken a trip to visit a nearby attraction. I know most of these men fairly well. I value them for who they are and what they have accomplished in life. When I observe them or talk with them I get just a small sense of who they really are and the roads they have been down on their journey. Sometimes I’m capable enough to glean something from their words, their actions, their reactions, that helps me with things I am grappling against or know I may face in the future. Usually though, I’m not humble enough to appreciate the untapped well of wisdom I have available.

I know enough to know that lessons get learned the hard way most of the time in life. We never believe things will happen to us that will test us in ways great or small. I suppose we think we are smart enough or slick enough or just full enough of ourselves to think we can work our way out of things or through things. And maybe we can in some things. I do know when testing comes we often rely on our own experience, or inexperience as it may be, and our own knowledge, limited as it may be, to see us through. Experience seems to be a teacher one can learn from, even if sometimes she also happens to grade things harshly.

Then, and maybe then, does my experience become a resource I can count as reliable.

But there, embedded in my mind, is that photo, or more importantly those in the photo. There in the photo is a vault of hundreds of years of traveled roads, long nights, great ideas, bad moves, cuts and scrapes, wounds and scars, defeats and triumphs, loads of knowledge from years of experience. And it is hardly ever opened for consumption.

Today’s society generally ignores our older generation. After all, they aren’t trendy any more. They’re not plugged in. They aren’t Twittering, Facebooking, iPodding. They can’t tell you a thing about “American Idol” or “NCIS”. They wouldn’t recognize Lindsay Lohan or Kanye West. They could care less what Oprah Winfrey or Jon Stewart thought about anything. They aren’t ‘with-it’ or whatever phrase of the day all the cool kids now use.

And generally those like my friends in the photo aren’t those things. That is a good thing. Most of them have stood in the middle of life looked ahead and looked back, and made it to where they are now and can share a great deal about the things that at the end of the road really matter.

Now, if it would only matter to us on that road to ask.