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As This
Pirate Looks At Forty
06/26/03
Blaine Parks
June 25th,
2003 marked the unceremonious passing of my 39th birthday. Today, June
26th is, by all calculations, the first day of my fortieth year on the
planet. Can age 40 really be only 364 days away? Where have all the years
gone? And while the 'big four-oh' looms just around the corner, it's not
the number that scares me. No, what scares me is the thought that I'm
running out of time to complete all the items on my "Things I want to
do before I die" list. After my birthday dinner at the Outback
restaurant in Norfolk - an appropriate location at my age since it won't
be long before the world puts me 'out back' to pasture - it was time for
some serious reflection and critical assessment of my list. So with a
little Jimmy Buffett music playing in my head, and with my older eyes now
corrected with contact lenses, I sat down to review where this
pirate had been in his thirty-nine years and what still remained to be
pillaged and plundered.
My
experience has been that men, more so than women, are the ones who create
these monster-size lists detailing all the things they want to do in life.
That's not to say that there aren't a fair percentage of women running
around with similar lists in their Palm Pilot. I just haven't run into
many of them in my wanderings around the planet. For those women who don't
have their own list or haven't suffered the agony of a relationship with a
list-driven man, I'll explain the process, or at least how it happened to
me.
My list
began in the first grade. It might have actually begun to be formed before
then, but it was in Mrs. Ebert's first grade class where I was seated,
looking down at a blank piece of paper, and trying to answer the question
she'd written on the chalkboard: "What do you want to do when you
grow up?" I was six years old and terrified because I didn't know the
answer to this question. How could I know what I'd want to do when
I was grown up? Hell, I was barely past planning the next four-square game
at recess, where I knew I could topple Jenny Smilestoomuch and her gang of
four-square queens - the reigning champions. I answered the Mrs. Ebert's
question with the usual answers: I wanted to be the president - or an
astronaut - and would go on to save the world. I got an 'A' on the paper,
but I didn't have much luck in beating the four-square queens. Don't
laugh. Girls were bigger than boys in the first grade.
Anyway,
from that day on, I began making a list of the things I'd want to do, or
be, when I grew up - just in case Mrs. Ebert tried to fool us with that
same question again. I was blessed with parents who told me that I could
do anything I put my mind to. With their encouragement as I grew older,
the list became more defined - and much longer.
At one
point I thought I wanted to be Batman. But my mom never got around to
making me the full outfit and my best friend Sean refused to be Robin, so
I gave that up. I think that was when I began focusing on the things I
wanted to do, rather than what profession I would pursue. If I couldn't be
Batman, would any other profession really satisfy me? Another of my
childhood friends thought he could be Superman. He broke his arm trying to
fly out of his bedroom window. I'm pretty sure that he also revised his
list afterwards. Most men probably begin their own lists with similar
delusional episodes.
With the
list taking form, I began scratching off the easy stuff right away. Learn
to ride a unicycle - age 12. Run up walls and leap onto roofs of one-story
buildings like a ninja - age 13 (with a few bruises). Become the fastest
kid on roller skates in the State of Hawaii - age 13 again. Lose my
virginity - age 12 (21, if my mom reads this). This crossing off of items
continued with learning to scuba dive, surf, and ride a skateboard - all
without killing myself. By the time I was eighteen, I had a full two-page
written list. Of course, I believed I was invincible and would live
forever.
Being a
testosterone driven male, sports were big on my list. It wasn't enough to
just play the sports; I wanted to be good at them so I was never the last
person picked when we split into teams. With this passion, I became the
dodge-ball champion in the fourth grade. There wasn't anybody who could
throw a ball that I couldn't catch, and once I caught it, I'd fire it back
at the other team knocking some poor soul off his or her feet. BAM, they
were out! In the fifth grade I perfected the one-armed handspring simply
because I was wearing an arm sling for an injured shoulder at the time.
And later I held the record for being able to do a handspring over the
most people kneeling down - six fifth graders, kneeling side-by-side. I
have no idea why those things were important back then, but they've been
marked off the list.
The usual
sports, like basketball, baseball, and football, were all conquered one by
one. I learned to water-ski and overcame my fear of the pool's high dive
platform. And though I was active in sports, I was super skinny and found
myself giving my lunch money to more than one school-bully. That had to
change; I put it on the list!
Martial
arts and weight lifting were the answer to my getting a more balanced
lunch plan at school. While living in the Philippines, I was fortunate
enough to study Karate, for free, under the watchful eye of our maid's
husband, a fifth-degree black belt. I quickly found that I not only
enjoyed the martial arts, I seemed to have a natural talent for them. Over
the course of one summer, lifting weights and studying the art of
self-defense, I became much stronger and developed the confidence and
ability to keep my lunch money for myself. Scratch that one off the list -
age 16. The weight lifting and martial arts would remain a part of my life
for many years. First-degree black belt in Tae Kwon Do - age 22;
Second-degree black belt - age 24.
College
wasn't originally on my list. Living life as a 'Navy brat', mostly
overseas, didn't provide the best access to information about colleges and
the importance of a higher education, so I never really gave it much
thought. Instead, I enlisted in the Air Force and found a career field
that allowed me to continue crossing items off "The List."
Hiking through jungles, parachuting from airplanes, rappelling from
helicopters and down mountains were all checked off the list during my
short military career. Those adventures were also the reason that college
went onto the list.
With
testosterone levels falling, and intelligence rising, I began attending
night classes. Sean Connery may have been fine as an older man performing
James Bond antics, but I didn't think I would do so well without having my
own stuntman. Those night classes turned into a two-year degree and
offered me the chance to exit the Air Force early on a full scholarship to
North Carolina State University. The hitch? I would have to return as an
Air Force officer after graduation.
I did
exceedingly well during my first two semesters at N.C. State; so well, in
fact, that I was invited to join a few special honors classes. I jumped at
the chance thinking I was really smart. After one of the coolest Physics
courses I've ever taken, I opted out of any more 'honors' courses. Though
the classes were very interesting, I found that I didn't have much in
common with the super intelligent people in the honors program. They
studied during every waking moment, while I preferred a little more
variety in my day. I went on to become an average student and was much
happier for my change of circumstances. I guess I wasn't cut out to be
really smart after all; erase genius off the list.
During my
junior year, the military went through a drastic downsizing, eliminating
the need for my return to service and taking with it the remainder of my
scholarship. I was in favor of the idea, believing I had the skills to
make it in the commercial world. But without the scholarship, I was forced
to work days and attend college in the evenings. At least the Air Force
scholarship during the early years provided tuition money for a fair
portion of my education and also allowed me the opportunity of a lifetime:
a one-hour ride in the back of an F-15 fighter jet. That ride wasn't on my
list originally. I added it after the fact, however, because it was just
too cool to leave out. I simply wrote it in where I had erased 'genius.'
Ten years
after that first night class, I finally graduated with a Bachelor's degree
and scratched college off the list. It took my bouncing through four
different colleges before graduating from North Carolina Wesleyan
University; NC State had previously discontinued the evening courses for
my degree due to budget cuts. Though it took much longer to achieve my
education, I don't know that I would change the path I followed to get
there. I grew and matured over those ten years making the education more
meaningful in my work and everyday life. Working to pay for the last few
years of college forced me to really focus on my studies, since it was my
money that would be wasted if I failed the course. That's the way life is
sometimes; it seems the longer paths often offer the greater rewards.
Marriage
has been on the list twice now, punctuated by one nasty divorce between
the two happy occasions. I also had the word "millionaire"
penciled in somewhere around the middle of page one. With some hard work,
steady commitment, and a good stock market, I had accumulated enough
wealth to use that title in my mid-thirties. It came, however, at the cost
of many financial debacles along the way. I no longer wear that
millionaire hat, having begun to spend what I accumulated in pursuit of
the remaining items on the list, but there was a time when I did and the
word "millionaire" now has a thin line drawn through it on page
one.
Sailing
around the world has been on the list since around the time I left high
school. I focused on the "millionaire" item first, thinking that
if I could achieve that, then sailing around the world might become more
affordable. Seems like it's worked out okay seeing as Janet and I are now
into our fourth year of cruising. The "around the world" part is
sort of on hold, however, because our two dogs create some unique
quarantine issues in several countries. I could argue that even without
the circumnavigation most of the goal has been realized, but I'll leave it
on the list until I actually circle the globe in a small boat.
There are
many more items that have been crossed off over the years, but I won't
continue to bore you with my mid-life reflections. If you've lasted this
long without giving up on this rambling of words, then you probably have
your own list and just wanted to see if I was farther along than you in
the quest for completion. Well, I'm not finished yet.
Learning
to ski, fly an airplane, play guitar, publishing a book, and riding a
motorcycle across the United States are still left undone. I've been
rained out every time I've tried to go skiing; maybe there's an omen in
that. Flying is something I should start soon. I thought I'd learn to play
the guitar when I went sailing, but instead I found that I enjoyed writing
and have been successful in getting a few articles published in several
magazines, which has helped with the 'publishing a book' idea. And what I
think I'm going to tackle next is the motorcycle ride.
What could
be better for a list-driven, testosterone-depleted, forty-year-old pirate
than throwing a leg over a big Harley Davidson motorcycle and heading
across the back roads of America? I'll be heading out next spring with the
wind in my hair, bugs in my teeth, and my dog, Max, in a sidecar. Of
course, Janet will be coming along with the wind in her hair, bugs in her
teeth, and her dog, Bailey, in their own motorcycle/sidecar combination.
All four of us will be setting out for a one-year ride across the country.
The goal is to pass through each of the lower 48 states. To make it more
interesting, we've decided to ride for charity.
Janet and
I are working to partner with two charities that provide assistance dogs
to individuals who might benefit from their services. We're planning to
form our own not-for-profit organization to provide the credibility and
tax-deductible status that will help make the venture a success. So, if
you see an odd set of motorcycles with two large dogs in sidecars, honk as
you go by. Maybe by doing something good for someone else during the year
of my fortieth birthday, this pirate won't feel like his timbers
are decaying from dry rot.
Don't
worry, though. I'll be listening to Jimmy Buffett's music throughout the
yearlong ride and will be dreaming of my return to Charbonneau to continue
my search for Margaritaville. We'll be chronicling the ride on two
websites, one for the not-for-profit organization and a separate personal
site. The not-for-profit organization will be called Hogs For Dogs and you
can read about our adventures at www.hogsfordogs.org.
It may be the biggest undertaking I've ever faced.
Today,
however, I'm still a pirate looking at forty, working my way north to
plunder the vast waters of Maine and Nova Scotia with my motley crew. Wish
me luck - I'm not quite as young as I used to be.
We'll
see you on the water --- or as we pass through your town on our Harleys.
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