LIKE A FINGER PRINT: DAY 456

Trying to teach a life lesson I coached one of my boys concerning money. We made a list of all the things he could buy with a dollar. Then I had him pick one, a make believe purchase. Without itemizing all steps in our process the point was made, after you trade your money for something you want, you have the item but the money is gone. A dollar will buy so many things but you only get to spend it once. There is a big difference between (many things) and (one of many things). That wasn’t the end of it. He had to make a list of all the things he spent his money on. Periodically we totaled up the balance and I put the question to him; “What had been worth the money and if you could go back, what would you rather have now, the money or what you spent it on?” We never have enough to buy everything we want. He didn’t like having his dad in his business and it was never smooth sailing but over time he did learn to manage his dollar.

Swimming laps in the early a.m. all sorts of ideas cross my mind, ideas that simply need to be developed which means writing. By the time I finish the swim (about 40 minutes) half a dozen, maybe more topics have rolled around, begging for my attention. If I don’t move on them right away they go away. In the water yesterday I thought about a repeating pattern, how I hate the getting up and going to the community center (the pool). Every time, I dread getting in the truck and pointing it into the sun. But not 10 minutes later, in the water, there is no place I would rather be. 

Maybe there is a touch of deferred gratification going on, sacrificing something in the moment for the chance of a reward later. Then, still in the water, the life lesson idea surfaced. Every time I sacrifice my creature comfort by moving my feet and driving into the sun I am rewarded, I get to make like a fish, weightless, streamlined and my lazy instinct is a fleeting memory, it goes away.

The only problem is, I forget the ideas that make a splash but go away. It’s like all the cars you see on the drive home. You avoid the ones with potential for a crash and yield to others simply as a courtesy. By the time you make it inside and stow your gear, details of the drive (the other cars) evaporated like mist on the window. I am hopeful the good ideas will recycle, come back around again sometime and I get another chance at them. On mornings I don’t swim I be lazy. There is a slow coming around, getting up to speed that I never suffered in my 70’s. When I woke up then I was awake. 

It just occurred to me, this blog is a little window into my life. Going back, last week, last year, many years; random rereading connects the dots and I get it. It is like a finger print. All those crooked, parallel lines with swirls and convoluted kinks, they tell a story. “This is who he is.” He is the only human who could make this print and leave it behind.” I leave them on everything I touch, on everything I write. With ‘Stones In The Road’ someone would have to take time, read lots of stories to identify. It would not be a sprint but rather a marathon. Another credible metaphor to consider is that my journal is almost like a commode. I leave little remnants from my journey there but hit the ‘Save’ button rather than ‘Move to trash’.