The One Thing You are Most Likely to Regret
It is my observation that far too many people end up merely existing versus really living. Go to work, come home, watch some TV, go to bed, and the same thing again the next day. Shopping and chores and more TV on the weekend. A few holidays in between. Yawn. And then always too suddenly, the deathbed -- and yes, the fear of coming death, but moreso the fear and regret of a life not fully lived.
When I was fifteen years old, I had a conversation with an elderly gentleman who was sitting in a wheelchair at a table at McDonald's. He had the most enormous feet I'd ever seen. On my way back from the men's room I just had to ask him what size shoes he wore.
Instead of answering the question, he told me how he loved dancing, and how in his younger days he worked his way past those massive feet to winning dance contests and women on ballroom floors. In fact that's how he met the woman he'd been married to for over fifty years, he said, and though "neither one of them could barely breathe" they both still sometimes danced together in their living room up until her death two years before.
That topic somehow led to trips he had taken, which led to another of his loves -- cars, especially the cars he had once owned -- and most memorably how challenging it had always been to find cars he could comfortably drive with his 6'5" frame and those enormous feet. From there he meandered down other paths and I ate my Quarter Pounder and really listened, not because all of his tales were interesesting but because he was. All but three or four strands of grey hair had departed his scalp, his skin was fragile paper, his voice sanded half away, and the conversation was clearly a difficult workout for his lungs, and yet his passion for life burst through his every word, his eyes, his being.
That is why, though I was fifteen and a horde of my friends were loitering in the parking lot outside, I remained and even sat down next to his attendant -- a short Hispanic woman in her thirties who smiled nonstop but never said a word save those she whispered at the very end -- to listen to this man for a good twenty minutes. And that is why -- along with the fact that they came from a man with such enormous feet, and along with the fact that they're true -- his final words to me became such a core part of me.
After we had already exchanged pleasant goodbyes, as his attendant was just starting to roll him away (I would've likely stayed even longer; they were on some obvious fixed and well-rehearsed schedule), he tapped her hand which was their shared signal to stop. He craned his neck slowly back toward me.
"I'm around old folks like me all day long," he said. "They're full of both good stories and lots of complaints. But with a few exceptions there's only one thing any of them who regret anything at all regret and it's this: they regret the things they didn't try and do. Remember that."
I remembered that. To be honest it is a tenet my own Mother and a handful of excellent teachers like Ms. Lillian McCabe had already helped to instill in me, but somehow this vibrant, ancient, big-footed stranger in the wheelchair at McDonald's gave succinct voice to it.
And I've tried to live my life with it at the forefront of my mind. Oh sure, I've misinterpreted it at times (moreso when I was younger but still here and there), I've failed at following through on it at other times (again moreso when I was younger but still here and there), but I've always strived to find my way back to it. I've worked to instill it in my kids, I've shared it with my wife and other loved ones, and I've incorporated it into my books like Beyond Stone and Steel and my other writings.
And I intend to convey it here. This blog will be about enjoying life. Jumping in. Trying things. Living deeply versus merely existing. (It will, from time to time, focus on some of the barriers to that living deeply, as my "How We Get You" columns do.)
This blog will focus on things that you may not have experienced before -- in food, travel, the arts, sports, games, conversation, spirituality, thought, you name it -- but that you'd likely find an intense experience, meaning it will contribute to your growth in some way, small or large, and help you become that much happier.
This blog will remind you that, when you're there on your deathbed, you won't regret not having worked even more overtime or not having watched enough TV. N
o matter how miniscule or enormous your feet are, no matter who or how many tell you that you can't or you shouldn't, my mission is to help everyone remember that the only things you will likely regret when you're there on your deathbed are the things you didn't try and do.
As she was pushing the old man in the wheelchair away, in case you're wondering, his attendant who hadn't said a word prior to this turned to me and whispered, "He says his shoes are size 23; they're actually just size 21. But he could really dance."