All In
My buddy Ray from Cleveland and I joke about the concept of chips, like the implied credit of poker chips. We move these imaginary tokens around, placing them, giving them away, or grabbing the ones of our own, and running away “with the cash” while we can. This does not always signify actual investments but mostly, Ray and I play the game, speaking of where our efforts lie and when do we finally pull the plug on intentions or pursuits of seemingly-dead-end projects.
Earlier this year, I pushed most of my imaginary wooden coins into the middle of the poker table of my own life. Casting aside all traditional efforts of making money to pay bills and make necessary home improvements, I instead chose to sit at home for the rest of 2020 and play my hand. I sit here almost six months later, inching closer and closer to the only thing that would even slightly make it onto an imaginary bucket list, the same thing that I’m going all-in on. I've never maintained a bucket list but rather just went out and lived life for today, never wishing for or assuming tomorrow would be there for me. As resources which include time, become more precious, I choose my efforts carefully these days.
I am void of any clear and present illness that threatens me and I am more physically fit today than I have been in a few years. Still, I feel a supreme sense of urgency to complete that one thing before my time and functional health gets away from me. Even if I never get to do much more than this singular act with all the years I have left in my life, I will look back on a glorious tale of living, and smile contently. If there were ever a singular effort of where to best put most of my chips, this one wins, hands-down. My dad (BigBird) left me a 18-page handwritten letter when he died, giving me details of my childhood that I would not have remembered otherwise. Without his note, so much of the family history and certainly his legacy would have been lost on me.
Eighteen pages describing all I didn't know and everything I couldn’t understand was not enough to satisfy me but my options to learn more of the stories from my childhood are extremely limited. I am taking all my chips, all I know, and all the details of my life thus far to continue the tradition and leave my life’s memoir to my two children. My daughter Lauren turns 18 in less than two months and my son Travis already turned 20 in late March, four weeks after my birthday, and two weeks after we remembered Big Bird’s birthday on St. Patrick’s Day.
After arguing with my new business coach, Coach Sarah, for months about her concept of melding my life story and proprietary business tools together into one book to try to go to market with, we compromised on the kid’s memoir. I don't waffle much on decisions. I am also a power-shopper, in and out. I carefully weigh options then rarely change my mind, once made up. I have missed many opportunities as I chose alternative paths in life, but not this time. Here I sit, my days filled with the clack-clack of keyboard keys, playing my hand of the biggest and most important bet I'll ever make. This will be the semblance of everything I have to say to my kids, my magnum opus. Except for this time, I anticipate the page count to be over 300, not 18 as BigBird left behind for me.
