Going, going,....
I can already see the shadow of the hook waiting to pull me off stage
When I was young, my life seemed endless. The years stretched out in front of me, and the horizon was so far away as to be invisible. I also had the advantage, growing up, of a relatively clear direction for my life and career (tech BTW), combined with a job market that offered me opportunities unimaginable to those starting out today. I assumed there would always be plenty of time to try things, change direction, correct mistakes, and eventually arrive somewhere comfortable.
Now, looking back, I have an entirely different perspective. The future that once seemed so long in front of me has compressed into something surprisingly small when looking in the rear-view mirror. Entire chapters of my life that felt slow while I was living them now pass through my memory in seconds. School, early jobs, the first moves to new places, the people who appeared and disappeared along the way—so much of it feels as though it happened only yesterday.
I think of this when I read about (and see all around me), the terrible state of those who are growing up in today’s world. Compared to my youth, most are well and truly f*ed. The go to college, get a good-paying job in your chosen career, get married, get a house, have 2.1 kids, retire rich and happy fantasy is stone cold dead. The problem is that Gen Alpha and Z are either still on the treadmill, chasing a mirage, or have gotten the message and given up, retreating to their parents’ basement to play on the Xbox and smoke weed.
So what are their options? In my view, only one. MOVE! Do something, take action, get off their asses, take a risk and try something new. More than ever, reconnecting with the classics and reading about how others lived their lives, as well as what life was like in earlier times, brings perspective to today’s challenges (Dickens and Twain are two good choices). For all the travails of today’s world of AI, outsourced jobs, and corporate predation, the world we live in is still unimaginably prosperous to someone who grew up in the 19th century (when my grandparents were born, if you can imagine that).
Some of the most important turns in my own life began as experiments that did not work the way I expected. A job taken for one reason led me toward a skill I had never considered developing (how I transitioned from hardware to software). Failed jobs all taught me lessons that forced me to rethink how I approached the next ones. Decisions that seemed questionable at the time eventually introduced me to people and opportunities that I never would have had otherwise. If I had waited for certainty before trying something new, I would never be where I am today.
Getting older has also caused me to think more about the approaching end of my life (what a surprise). When I was young, death was an abstract concept that I hardly thought about at all. It was something distant, something that would happen eventually, sometime far in the future. Today, the question is no longer if, but simply when (and to a lesser extent how). And if I am honest with myself, “when” is almost certainly likely to be sooner than I anticipate.
That realization has a strangely calming effect. It forces me to sort my priorities more carefully. If dying tomorrow is a real possibility—and it always is—then it becomes harder to justify spending time on things that do not matter—petty conflicts, pointless obligations, habits, and work that produce nothing meaningful. With age, the distinction between meaningful and trivial becomes clearer—trust me on this.
So, “Going, going, …” and at some point, Gone! When that moment arrives, the memories of me in those who remain will be the legacy of my life—both the warts and the bright spots. I can only hope and do what I can in the time that remains to shape those memories as best I can. As for my future post mortem, if any, I’ve already written about that.
Before long, it will all be dust to me anyway.