A fork in the road

You have to love the word “old”. It is about as vague and generic a word available and probably abused more than any. You might say “That old thing” when someone compliments you on a jacket you bought two years ago, or “I love those turn of the century pictures; anything old”. Both are correct usages of the word, but really mean entirely different things. The truly odd part about this word is that what it means to you often depends on how old you are! See how hard this is?

I really thought about this last night while watching Survivor. Ok, all you Survivor haters, no need to tune out now I promise I’m going somewhere with this. But at the end of every episode they have an election of sorts that removes the least favorite person from the show. I hate to call a vote to remove someone an election, but that’s really what it is. Before the vote there are about 10 minutes of campaigning (a bitch session) where each candidate states the reason(s) they should be allowed to stay. It is often ugly and the two sides are almost always divided by age; the old and the young. Given the fact that there is dirt in my yard that is younger than me, I usually side with the older group.

But last night as I watched the vote with my opinion firmly in place, I had a change of heart. Old against young; experience against inexperience; yes against maybe; it seemed so easy. But right in the middle of the battle the younger of the two announced that yes, this was the first time she had failed, but this was also the first time she had ever tried anything that she was not sure she could complete. She made her attempt armed with the confidence that had historically pulled her through all of her previous life experiences…but failed. Tightrope walking looks easy from the ground.

But what really gave me hope was not the fact that she acknowledged her failure, it was the fact that she knew why. I see this as a defining moment and I think the voting members did as well. A fork in the road, we’ve all been there. At my advanced age I have probably been there a few more times than her, but maybe we should not be judged by our number of attempts. You are allowed three strikes, but you are also graded on a batting average. (Sorry for the sports analogy but I couldn’t resist) But where we go after our mistakes is truly what defines us; these are learning experiences. Do we go through life bragging about our conquests that are actually just things we can do in our sleep? Just because you are good at something doesn’t in itself make it difficult. Just how often do we ever really…try? Don’t fall into the trap of going through the one life you have doing the same old things!