These aren't accomplishments of mine,
so they're not something I can take great pride in, but they're
experiences I've had. Most of them were engineered, directly or
indirectly, by my mom. We didn't have a lot of money growing up, but
she was determined that I be a well-rounded person with a lot of
experience to draw on. She pushed me into the Chattanooga Boys'
Choir, which is a professional boys' choir in Chattanooga, Tennessee.
It tours both nationally and internationally, and gave me some
amazing performance opportunities, all before I could even drive. I
missed most of a summer band program going into my freshman year of
high school because I was out on my third and final tour with them.
She also pushed me into 4-H, and as
much as I hated it at the time, it was probably the best decision I
ever had taken out of my hands. I learned more useful things in my
peripheral association with 4-H than I did in all my years of formal
education. The bar was set very high for me at a very early age, and
I usually met the challenge.
One quite memorable experience had
almost nothing to it – pure dumb luck, I suppose. My college was
hosting a Nobel Prize nominated poet from Nigeria and I knew both the
professor whose house he was staying at and the professor who had
invited him to come speak, and as a result, I got to meet him in
person at the little get-together they were having after his lecture.
I wasn't the only student there, but I got a little more personal
treatment than I really deserved. As a favor to my professor, he
agreed to come to our class the next day and read the poem that had
earned him the notice of the Nobel committee. He read it out to us,
and as I was sitting there thinking about it with the rest of the
class, he finished, and he looked up and our eyes met, and he said
“Now, you.”
Words still fail me. In seven years
since it happened, I cannot describe the emotional height I had
reading that poem TO THE MAN WHO WAS ALMOST GIVEN A MILLION DOLLARS
FOR WRITING IT. I was exhilarated, anxious, nervous, and all of those
other words to a degree I can't really name. It ranks right up there
with my first kiss and the day I was baptized. And when I finished
reading he gave me a small round of applause, which the rest of the
class joined in, and I was so drained from only a minute's reading
that I thought I was going to pass out in my chair.
I was twenty years old when that
happened.
I am now 28 years old, and here are
just a few of the experiences I've already had -
I've traveled all over the country,
including to Alaska, where I stayed up all night on the summer
solstice and watched the sun not set.
I've traveled to England, where we saw
the Queen Mother, who got into her car and almost ran over our
accompanist. Royalty always have the right of way in England.
I've written two novels.
I've performed in two operas and one
touring Broadway musical.
I've met four or five published authors
and talked about their work with them.
I've seen most of the works of Norman
Rockwell.
I've swum with dolphins, and also
petted sharks.
I've been to Disney World so many times
I had the layout memorized when I was 13.
I've been camping in the Tennessee
wilderness and escaped from a bear and a scary old man, on separate
occasions.
I've taken photographs of Big Ben, the
Statue of Liberty, Pike's Peak, and the World Trade Center when the
twin towers were still standing.
I've sung on national television with a
contemporary gospel music star.
I've met a Nobel Prize nominee, a CEO,
two congressmen, three TV stars, and seen one ex-president playing
tennis.
I rode in one of the first electric cars ever manufactured.
I've eaten fish and chips in London,
baked beans in Boston, pizza in New York, crawfish in Louisiana,
cheese steak in Philadelphia, lobster in Maine, and barbecue in
Memphis.
I've clawed my way back to
functionality from a crippling mental illness.
I've paid my respects to the Unknown
Soldiers and broken a known one's collarbone when he wanted to see
which of us was stronger.
Now, at 28, I'm living on my own, working my job, and generally trying to figure out where to go from here.
Where do you go from here? That's a
list of things to do before you die, not before you turn thirty. What
can life offer me that can possibly compare to what I've already had?
How do you go from a list like that and work upwards? I think perhaps
I have to accept that I've probably passed my prime. Life from here
is mostly about paying the bills for the good time I had.
I don't have the right to sing the
blues. I've had a good life. Now what am I supposed to do to pass the time till my clock finally runs out?
