A Relic of the Past

Sometimes the past slips though the present and finds you.

Opening a book, the lone unread one by a favorite author Morris West, the stub of an airline ticket falls in my lap.

Seat 7-A on Delta Airlines was mine in April heading to St. Martin.

I don't know which year, the ticket doesn't say but in April I was heading to meet Conner for a "Boy's Trip" when we'd hook up with our Caribbean friends for a week.

I examine the stub as though a relic of ancient history, proof of another time ... another life.

I was flying high in those days ... first class to every major American City ... the head of a ground breaking work ... sought after public speaker ... political manipulator for the common good ... author ... advisor to public and personal problems ... constantly in the News ... and because I'd accumulated a gazillion frequent flyer miles, and money wasn't much of an issue, I traveled wherever I wanted.

From the outside looking in, I was the epitome of success ... a rock star demanded by many ... a free empty-nester ... popular and young ... high on a mountain of accomplishments with my feet firmly planted in the sand beside the Ocean.

Inside looking out was a burning cauldron of misery ... an exhausted actor fed up with the part ... lonely in a marriage gone to shit ... out of the passion that drove me ... painfully aware there was nothing else to achieve so the desire to prove 'em wrong replaced by the sad reality of boredom.

The ticket's from seven or eight years ago and I'm no longer resemble the person who purchased it.

Most everything from those days are long gone and, while I sometimes miss the convenience of arrogance, I'm now on a new journey far away from the world of "making it big."

I am passionately in love with my wife ... work hard at understanding the three girls I got with her as they recoil in horror at me ... redefine the relationship with our adult kids ... hopelessly dote on our new baby girl ... have a few good friends ... and there's limited travel, few demands primarily because I no longer do the things I used to, lack of funds but a firm conviction that I no longer have to prove anything to anyone.

There are times when I wish I had the good things from my life then for the one I live now but ... while it was a Hell of a ride, there's no desire to go back.

As strange as it's been, life really has been good to me so far ... even the bad shit had some silver linings.

In fact, crazily and unexpectedly, without lots of stuff, life's better than it's ever been.

Grabbing the book, I stroll towards our baby Che's kicking in her seat making mobiles dance, pull my shirt off throwing it on a chair, grab my Seltzer and lime and drop the relic from the past in the trash on the way outside on a glorious sunny and warm January day.