The Magic Trunk
On previous blogs, I’ve shared my thoughts on where I am in life’s journey and how much of my introspection comes from looking back at the past. This post follows a similar theme. Dr. Wayne Dyer writes about the four stages of a man’s life: Athlete, Warrior, Statesman, and Spirit. It’s in the first two stages that a man forges his life’s path and develops his approach to the world. The Athlete and Warrior stages are, as you’d expect, filled with self-discovery, self-interest, testosterone fueled, and a fair share of poor decisions and unfounded assumptions. All of this is in the pursuit of creating a version of oneself that can successfully navigate through the remaining stages of Dyer’s model.
Currently, I find myself firmly in the Statesman stage, doing all I can to delay entering the Spirit stage for as long as possible. Part of that effort includes eliminating all animal protein from my diet, except for fish, managing stress, striving to be the best version of myself, and sticking to my two “Why’s” (see previous blogs for more on that). Of all the duties and responsibilities I’ve embraced in the Statesman stage, becoming my best self remains the greatest challenge. By that, I mean that patience is still something I struggle with, as is accepting that others may not be as invested in becoming their best selves as I am. There are moments when the Athlete and Warrior rear their ugly heads, pushing the Statesman aside. The good news is that I’m now able to recognize when this happens, giving me the opportunity to make amends to those I’ve offended or, at the very least, send them peace and love when direct reconciliation isn’t possible.
My paternal grandparents lived in West Palm Beach — not to be confused with Palm Beach, which is just 10 to 15 miles away but a world apart in most respects. They would drive down to visit us at least twice a month for the weekend when we were growing up. My grandmother often baked a chocolate cake or Italian Wedding cookies, which my two brothers and I would have devoured by Saturday night. My grandfather, a retired furrier, didn’t talk much, but his presence was always felt. He, like my father — and now myself — was an early riser. I remember waking up before dawn and finding him at the kitchen table with his hot tea and toast. I’m not sure if he made it himself or if my grandmother prepared it for him, as she was never around at that hour for me to truly know who made him breakfast.
Throughout the day, my grandfather stayed busy, either working on small projects around the house, going for a walk, or watching a ballgame. But it was when my brothers, or I needed something for a school project, or if we were missing a piece of something for whatever we were playing with, that my grandfather would spring into action. We’d ask him for whatever was missing, and he’d step outside to his car. Without fail, he’d return with exactly what we needed. This happened almost every single time, and we affectionately began to refer to these trips as visits to “the magic trunk.”
I bring this up because, in the grand scheme of things, most of what we say or do will not be remembered. However, how we make people feel will be. It’s interesting how certain realizations arise when you’re paying attention. One of my influencers, Scott Galloway, writes a blog that typically arrives in my inbox on Fridays — right around the time when I know it’s time to sit down and start writing mine. In his most recent post, he opened up about some conflicting emotions and admitted to personal behaviors he’s not proud of. I, too, was not my best self this past Thursday. Even though I’m in my home in North Carolina with my wife, far from the pressures back home, I’m still dealing with several of life’s challenges in real time. And even though I should have been relaxed and at peace, the Athlete and Warrior had other intentions.
The beauty and solitude of the mountains stand in stark contrast to the stress of navigating the medical system for a sick parent. And although I am worlds away from quarterbacking my mother’s care, the reality is always present. We return to South Florida today, Saturday the 12th. We’ll prepare the house for departure, take the 2.5-hour drive to the airport, and fly back home. I’m thankful for this time away and feel I’ve made the most of it. Now, I’m looking ahead to the coming weeks at the office and the start of my mother’s treatment process. I have also made some distinctions regarding Fed-Hurt and have cleared the obstacles for the remainder of the year. Let’s Go!
It’s been over 40 years since I sat with my grandfather while he sipped his hot tea and ate his toast. He didn’t say much, but I’ll always have the memory of “the magic trunk” to remind me of how he made us feel.
