I turn 48 today. Once again grateful that another year of life insurance premium went to waste. It’s a reflective one, not because of me but because my eldest turns 13 tomorrow. I didn’t ask for it to be reflective, but my wife was watching old videos of him from ages 2 to 5 before bed and I got drawn in.
I never seek out the old videos. I figure one day I will when I need to make a slideshow or something. It’s a strange feeling. Because I forget what their little voices and mannerisms were like, so it feels like I’m watching a film that wasn’t actually my own life. And in that period, their constant need for you absorbed all your free time and energy. It’s a moment where all the young parents reading are in right now feels like forever. When you’re on the playground with your toddler and think how a 1st grader seems so old. Be careful ruffian, can’t you see my boy is only two and a half.
But it’s a flash. And all of it that absorbs you right now will cease to be remembered in detail. Only in shape. I can’t tell you about any one Saturday, but I can tell you about all of them together. The Tilden train every Saturday. Your day’s 2 halves. Before and after a nap. Each part starts with another coffee.
I’m not here to say enjoy it because it’s fleeting. I mean it is, but another phase will start. And it’s great. They’re all great. But if my memory of only 10 years ago is already foggy, I’ll predict that will be true for all that’s happening now when I’m 58.
I think I used to carry some anxiety about “will I remember this?”, “how will I remember this?” And you don’t really think about how the kid’ll remember this because you know they won’t. But as they get to elementary school age and older you know they’ll remember. And everyone wants to do core-memory-maxxxing for their kids. Us too. It would be nice if when they’re grown they look at their childhoods fondly. Or even better, if they think it helped them become whoever they’ve become, especially if they’re proud of that person.
Enjoy it, but not because it’s fleeting and not because you’re playing memory inception.
Enjoy it because it’s all there is.
You have no control over how matter might organize itself to bombard all that you love, all that you remember, and how you remember it. Your mind mediates reality, which itself we can only glimpse from the limited frames of our attention. The whole you-don’t-notice-your-breathing-until-I-say-pay-attention-to-your-breathing thing. The memories are sensitive to not only what you happened to notice but on the revisions that life’s future path dependence cast backwards.
The personal past (as opposed to big H History) to me is a social thing. A laughback with friends. A reminiscence you bond over. It’s not something I care to meditate alone on. Meanwhile, the future is a paradox. You want to watch your kids’ story unfold. You want to see the world with your partner and loved ones. There’s so much to look forward to. Yet you want time to slow down. You’ve got an awesome trip coming up in 6 months, but you don’t want to say “hurry up and get here” because the last thing you want to say is “hurry and let my kids/parents/pets be 6 months older”.
My 13-year-old is building a gym in the garage. It’s that time of life for him. He notices who has a 6-pack when they play shirts and skins. He wants to be stronger in the paint. I’ve been selling stuff on FB marketplace to make space for this iron temple. This week I sold a piano stool to the most energetic 82-year-old woman. She was apparently telling her karate instructor she never learned music and he offered to teach her piano. So here she is, stoked to be learning something new. You’d like to see that every day.
Knowledge and preparation demand we think of the past and the future. But you don’t want to live there.
I leave you with one of my favorite songs.