Hello from snowy February evening,
As I ponder and worry about the world we have created, pensive as I wonder if we will survive the unending chaos that confronts me from all platforms we seem to incessantly absorb, I am reminded of that adage of what if I could go back in time, but know what I know now, would I do it? Almost without exception, my answer was NO (emphasis intended) not for anything or anyone. Undoubtedly, there are decisions, actions, choices, if to do them now, I might handle differently; there are experiences and consequences I could have done well enough without them occurring.
Part of what makes us unique in creation as we understand it is our unique ability to remember the past, both in terms of time and clarity, as well imagine the possibilities for the future, again certainly in terms of a quite distant or distinctive manner. When I was in Arizona preparing to undergo one of the more significant surgeries I have had, I was speaking with my Great-Aunt Helen about memories from early in life when my sister and I lived at her sister Louise’s house (my grandmother). I was in my thirties at the time and my grandmother had already passed over a decade before. My great-aunt stared at me in amazement, and stuttered, “B-b-b-but you were barely two; how do you remember that?” I simply replied, “I don’t know; I just do.” My grandfather died of cancer before I turned three, but I remember him. I remember seeing him working in the stockyards; I remember him sitting on the back steps with me as we watched a nightly visiting Great Horned Owl. I see clearly his carrying me into St. Joseph’s Hospital after I was bitten by a dog. I remember him at home lying in a hospital bed as he lost his battle to cancer. All of this happened before I celebrated a third birthday.
My memory has always been somewhat unique. Abnormal? I am not sure. A blessing and a curse? Certainly! Has it created difficulties or gotten me in trouble? Undoubtedly! And yet I feel blessed to recall most of the parts and experiences of my life. Poets throughout history have imagined the what is of returning to childhood. Elizabeth Akers Allen, a Maine poet from the 19th century wrote, “Backward, backward O time in your flight / Make a child again just for tonight.” It is a poem used in the movie version of Norman Maclean’s incredible novella, A River Runs through It, occurring later in the movie when Norman hears his clergy father reciting the poem in his study and they speak together antiphonally. The appreciation for both their mutual knowledge of the poem and the realization of their deeper connection as father and son are palpable. Especially in light of their family struggles with the second son’s unhealthy habits. And if you’ve never watched the movies or read the short barely-over 100 page family memoir, it’s worth the time.
If I could be that child for just one night, what would I wish for differently? I would wish that my adopting mother would have been happy with her three adopted children versus the angst and anger she most often exhibited (and I feel badly for her more than myself). I wish my parents might have been a little more financially solvent so my father wouldn’t have found it necessary to work seven days a week, twelve hours a day for most of my elementary school years. I think that would have helped family dynamics immensely. I wish I would have felt more confident in who I was both at home and in my world because that inability put me developmentally behind in a number of social and professional ways. And perhaps, most importantly, I wish I would have felt safer in general so I might have believed I could accomplish things sooner; perhaps I would have married early, more successfully, and had a family of my own. And yet, lest you think I am unhappy or displeased with my life or where I am, that is not the case. I have been profoundly blessed at every turn of my 70 years.
Another thing I believe makes us unique in creation is our undying ability to adapt, change, and learn. I remember as a child praying regularly for different life, wondering if I were to pass if it would matter. Surely, that is a sad statement, and thanks to God, to some surrogate parents (Jake and Marge, Frank and Margaret, Bud and Jan), to some childhood friends, I am still here to reminisce over 60 years later. In our ability as adapt and learn, we develop two things resilience and optimism. We imagine the other and we hope for something not yet realized. Much has been written about my boomer generation, that is for sure, and I believe the verdict on us is still out; and it is complicated also for sure. My noted slow development and my late entry into college pushed me into later boomer group or perhaps into the next generation. Three decades of college classroom has provided incredible insight into the next alphabet listings of generations. What seems evident is we are all a definite propensity to blame those before us, to play the victim of our circumstances. Blaming the other and choosing to be the victim might be momentarily understandable, but seldom is it an efficacious way to exist.
As I sit in my somewhat monastic space, I am listening to YouTube and a recent Heart concert (Dec 2025). It is the first time I have listened to them and believe Ann Wilson’s voice has lost its edge and her unparalleled vocal power. And yet, simultaneously it reminds me of moments since the 70s they have been the soundtrack of my mind, of my emotions. This past week as one of the voices of Three Dog Night passed, I was transported back to junior high school. In the last months, I have lost more than one person in my life, and other struggle. So do I want to go back? No, the answer remains the same. All in all, I know my life is blessed; it has been blessed in aspects never imagined, and perhaps in ways still not realized. I have been so loved by so many. And I will leave it simply with thank you for an amazing life.
Thanks for reading,
Michael
thewritingprofessor55 