A young man met a wise octogenarian last week at Breakfast on Broadway.
He told fascinating stories of surviving (barely) intense battles in Korea and of making millions and losing nearly everything due to imprudent investments.
Listening and watching him closely, there seemed to be no sense of regret…no Monday morning quarterbacking looking at the events of his past.
Sensing his genuine contentment and ability to live for each moment, I had to ask him…’how have you been able to let go of the misfortunes of your earlier years and move on’?
With eyes as blue as a Colorado sky, he smiled and spoke this parable.
‘My father was my hero…the hardest working man I ever saw. He was homeless during the depression and had to scavenge through trash bins for meager bits to eat. When he finally emerged from those awful days, he vowed to press on and never look back. He told me a story that has stayed with me for decades.
‘Back in the 30’s, we had so little. I had this old, beaten up brown suitcase that held everything I owned.
In those days they called it a ‘grip’.
When I finally found a job in the automobile factory, I didn’t mind the sixteen hour shifts…just having a job, a wife, and a child on the way was like being reborn.
I vowed to never, ever, waste a minute looking back.
I took that old, battered, now empty grip…and put it in the attic of our first home on S.Clarkson St..
The grip had a deeply resonating symbolism for me…’I knew, deep in my heart, that the past could be like a grip you carry with you for life. It could weigh a person down and occlude their vision of all that is important.
My brother was caught in the grip of alcohol and died far too young. My sister was gripped by the resentment of a contentious divorce and wore the pain on her face…and in her soul…until she too passed at age 63.
Surviving close calls in Korea when seeing friends killed has made me far more than grateful.
Each day…no….each and every minute, is such a special gift.
I chose long ago to let go of the grip of the past and cherish each breath.
So, I hope you understand that the light you see in me at 87 was a long time coming.
This rebirth has been formed in the fire of a very tumultuous past and I will cling to it forever.’
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What You’re Saying