TIME TO COAST TO THE PARTY, OR NOT

Way way back a couple of gazillion years ago, I think, long before Jesus was an immaculate glint in Mary’s eye, before Tutankhamun slipped into his stony sleep-number sarcophagus for his centuries-long pointy pyramidy snooze and back when dinosaurs could be found outside of places like museums, Cabazon California truck stops, mini golf courses and animatronic amusement park rides, I had a lot of time off from work to play. At least it feels like it was that long ago, but oh… play I did.

I was a consultant for 15 years and in-between contracts I would have anywhere from a week to two months off. During those times there were no phone calls, no growing stacks of ‘to do’s on my desk or any work related responsibilities to worry about. That part of the job was bliss… until I got my next assignment and had to venture off to the middle of nowhere far from home and friends to work 70 hour weeks with no day off for months on end. And the real catch was I never knew how long that break was or when the phone call about the next gig was coming so I never could make real plans… not sounding so great anymore, eh?

But about that play thing. I miss it. And yes, to me, that life seems like it was a million years ago although it has only been a decade and half since I settled down, got a real home, got a real wife and got a real life. I liked the adventures and challenges of my old world but really the free time is the only part I still miss. My current existence on the planet is pretty damn good most of the time but, like a believer in reincarnation, every once in a while I slip into thoughts of my past life (did ya read the past two blogs?)

It hit home this past weekend when a group of friends were enjoying a trip up the California coast. For weeks I got e-mails and texts asking if I was going to make a last minute surprise appearance like I used to do. Work conflicts and some chaos at home made it 100% impossible. One week earlier maybe, two weeks later definitely, that weekend the chance of me making it was about the same as Ted Cruz and Hilary Clinton giving away their personal assets and ambitions, shunning all media attention, giving up all ego boasting public adulation and starting an isolated Iceland Islamic hippie commune together. That did not stop me from peeking on Kayak a few times just to double check if a nearby single day flight was feasible for the briefest of surprise drop ins. Nope… pipe dreams usually don’t come true. I’m not sure if the frequent texts and pictures from the guys on the trip made me feel missed, loved and included or just plain depressed for not being able to join the fun.

Pismo Beach

When I was traveling for work I was a lot younger and if it was impossible for me to attend a particular party, gathering or road trip, it was no big deal. I assumed there would be another one in the near future. And there usually was. But now I am a bit older and you never know if there is another. Lives get busy, responsibilities and realities change people. Folks drift apart, priorities shift: children need special care, parents need special care, sometimes we need special care. Mortgages, retirement, college bills, career changes, buildings fall, pressures grow, the car is broken again… people die!!! The real world can slap you so silly that the last thing on your mind is flying across country for a fun-filled drive up the coast. Yet the memories of past things like that are some of the most precious I have.

Twenty years ago my buddies Charlie and John were planning a similar party drive up the California coast. The goal was to make it up to San Francisco but the fun was going to be the ride up there. I did not think I was going to be able to make it but at the last minute my consulting job was cut short. Sunday I was doing the financials and inventorying the assets of a company in Tampa Florida, Monday morning I was sitting in a lawyer’s office finalizing documents, Monday afternoon I was driving to my folks place where I could quickly leave my car and possessions for a couple of weeks, Monday evening I sat on a plane to LA, Monday night I had dinner at my oldest friend Mike’s restaurant, later Monday night it was off to a bar with Mike and some coworkers, even crazy later Monday night/early Tuesday morning I found myself at someone’s house playing poker and drinking vodka till 4:00AM and finally around 5:00AM I was half comatose while Mike tried to quietly slip me into his house when I accidentally leaned against the doorbell awaking his entire family just prior to settling down for a two hour nap on a sofa before Charlie and John picked me up for our adventure up the coast. Then things really, REALLY got crazy. But that is another tale for another day from a trip that now seems very far away.

My world is different now. More planned, more scheduled, more limited. I have not seen some of my closest friends in person for years and years because of not enough time. Yet I also feel another pressure about missing people and experiences because at 52 years-old I know I don’t have unlimited time. There is not always another party. I’m over the hump, halfway home, on the back nine, past halftime, later innings… The push and pull of not enough time to do things but not unlimited time left to experience things makes stuff like this past weekend hard on my brains and keeps my eyeballs staring at the ceiling when I’m trying to sleep.

Really, how many more times in my life will the guys call and text to say come join us up the coast? Sometimes I don’t just feel like a juggler trying not to drop balls, I wonder if I am even juggling the right balls? They say you can never go back, that’s okay, I don’t really want to. I just want to make the right moves forward and not miss the show on the way. Like those California drives, the party might be up the coast but half the fun is getting there.