"If you must look back, do so forgivingly. If you will look forward, do so prayerfully. But the wisest course would be to be present in the present gratefully." -Maya Angelou
On Father's days my dad used to ask all of us kids one thing that we thought he could "do better" in the coming year. Being the young kid full of insight and wisdom that I was I usually blurted out such things as "go camping more with me!" or "stop being so grumpy!" I remember one year, though, during the onslaught of teenage angst, I had something serious I needed to tell the man. By now, it was just me and my little sister at home. My six older siblings (yes, six!) had grown, graduated, and were now living elsewhere, anxiously engaged in their own lives. Compared to having eight children running amuck I know the house felt quiet and sometimes lonely to my folks. They were staring empty nesting down the throat, and were dreading what was to come.
It was during this stage of life that my dad started to often refer to "the good old days"- when all of his kids were living at home. He would mention playing "rabbits" out in the backyard with all of us or I'd catch him watching old home videos or looking sadly at all the bikes and toys and bedrooms that went unused day after day. And he'd say softly, "Ah, those were the good old days."
Stangely, this hurt my feelings. Many of the "good old days" that my dad was referring to I couldn't even remember. I wasn't alive yet, or if I was, I was too little at the time to recall any of it. Heck, I had just celebrated my sixth birthday when my oldest sister left for college. My young memory had no idea what it was like to live with all of my siblings at home. There were zero memories of the grand canyon, or our old house, or the van we drove to California to visit my mom's family twice a year. These were my parents' and my siblings' memories, not mine. Somehow I felt that because I had come near the end of the pack I had missed out on the best my family had to offer. My "good old days" were right then- the nephews coming to visit, my sister and I going to dinner with just my parents, listening to my dad talk excitedly about the World Series. Why didn't my dad look so fondly at these years? That moment? That one right then. With me.
And so, when Father's day rolled around, I was locked and loaded. Ready to go. When my dad asked what he could do better, I had my speech already prepared. I asked him if he could not miss the "good old days" so much. And maybe to find a little bit of "good" and a dash of "old" in the days we were living right then and there.
This seemed to touch my dad.
Told you I was full of insight and wisdom as a 15 year old.
From then on, my dad made constant references to our current "good old days". Right there. He made sure I knew that he would look back on this time fondly. I know he felt bad, but, heck, I'd even venture to say the poor old man over did it.
I helped him in his doctor's office, "Thanks, Bopper. These are the good old days, aren't they?"
I hopelessly tried to maneuver a stick shift, "Welp. These are the good old days, right?"
We went to Sherald's Burger Bar for shakes when my mom was out of town, "I am just loving these good old days!"
But the message stuck. We were living the good old days. That exact moment. It wasn't ten years ago. It wasn't the backyard full of kids, the past house we lived in, the old family vacations. For me, it wasn't my college years that loomed ahead. It wasn't the future mission, the future marriage, the future babies. The good old days were right that moment.
Yesterday I went to hear Dave Rozowsky, a comedy and improv genius, speak. He talked about "being present." About being right there in the moment. He asked if when we take a shower we are really taking a shower. Or are we already getting dressed, grabbing breakfast, in the car? When we are driving to work are we really driving to work? Or are we already at work? I thought about my life right now. Am I present? Hubs and I have lots of big changes coming up ahead in our life... am I already at those big changes? Or am I still here? Right now. Today. Present in this very moment.
Hubs and Rosowsky. Do they look like long lost lovers or what?
I don't know about you. But I am loving the "good old days".
Hubs and I living up our good old days Monday night at the Jazz game.
We lost by one at the last second.
It's all good.
