You are a mature adult. I know this because you are taking the time to read something in a newspaper.
Let me congratulate you. Really. I bet that when you received your first driver’s license you weren’t pondering the long-term problems of our decaying medical delivery system.
Nope, when you were 16 you just wanted the keys and a full tank of gas. See ya, Pops.
I point this out merely to remind you that as we grow, our view of the world constantly changes. Decades pass, and the combination of maturity and experience gradually — very gradually — bestows something close to wisdom on our ever-expanding souls.
But, oddly, we barely notice this ongoing acquisition of wisdom as it happens. During each changing phase of my own life, I thought I had everything figured out, only to realize a decade later that 10 years earlier I was mostly clueless. This process continues today, as I enter my 70s.
So, for the record, here’s what I thought I knew, and what I wish I’d known, decade by decade.
My 20s: What I thought: I have a beautiful wife, and I’m on my way. Sure, I’m on the bottom rung of the working world, but everything will be okay. Deficiencies in education and training can be overcome with talent and grit.
What I wish I’d known: Pay more attention to my wife. Meanwhile, personal deficiencies can certainly be corrected, but the process can’t be put off indefinitely. Eventually the window will close.
My 30s: What I thought: Hard work is hard, but doable. My growing family understands why I have to be gone so much.
What I wish I’d known: Pay more attention to my wife and family. Sure, they understand why I’m gone, but understanding can’t always make up for what children might someday come to feel, rightly or wrongly, as a distant or abstract love.
My 40s: What I thought: I’m finally and fully an adult. I’m several rungs up the ladder. Bigger rewards, but bigger challenges. Well, I’ll get through it by working harder. My family depends on me.
What I wish I’d known: Pay more attention to my wife and family. If you need to, this is your last chance to course-correct, at home and at work. For better or for worse, the concrete is hardening.
My 50s: What I thought: I’m happy enough. In an imperfect world, I’ve carved out my place. Life isn’t always easy, but we’re all doing okay.
What I wish I’d known: If there is ever a time to set aside glossed-over, self-justifying, or superficial love, this is it. If something needs fixing, fix it. It’s pretty much now or never.
My 60s: What I thought: The kids are launched and have their own challenges to face. As for retirement, we’ve earned it. At last.
What I wish I’d known: The effects of retirement aren’t what you thought they’d be. Endless relaxation (even active relaxation) gets old with remarkable speed. Much like yourself.
My 70s: What I think today: Finally, the decay of the body is inescapable and has to be acknowledged. So, also, is the need to create a new, meaningful life — perhaps one of service and goodness, that will enable you to at least partially atone for your past unintended, yet real, selfishness, as you focused so intensely on your own career that you gave little thought to the outside world beyond a monthly contribution to the United Way. In your 70s, you should only have one real hobby now: mending fences and building a better future wherever you find a need, in your family or your neighborhood. Starting, of course, with your spouse, if you’re lucky enough to still have one at your side.
As for what’s ahead, I’ve given up having expectations. I can guess, of course, and most of what I can predict won’t be pretty as my physical disintegration gradually picks up speed . I already can’t remember what I had for dinner last night, but I can remember every detail of meeting my wife for the first time. Despite my older-than-dirt status, she’s still as pretty as the day I met her.
Even this late in the game, time still bestows a few gifts.