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As in baseball,
people talk about a curve ball in real life. Usually, they’re referring to
situations in which they’ve guessed incorrectly about upcoming events or in
which they may have been fooled by a clever opponent. For instance, a company
may have priced their products based upon their competitors’ current prices
only to discover that the other company had a new, less expensive product being
developed. That could be regarded, by the first company, as a “curve ball” from
a strategic perspective. The term suggests an element of being caught
unprepared or prepared for the wrong kind of event.
Today is a curveball day –
the kind of day on which I must contemplate an interesting, age-old
philosophical question: If I knew
the day on which I’d take my last breath, the one that was to be my last on
earth, would I do something special? What, if anything, would I do differently?
With whom would I spend that last day and where?
I’ve read volumes and
volumes about writing techniques: where and how to find writing prompts, how
important it is to write regularly – that magic 1000 words a day every day.
It’s an activity both serious and worthwhile – the practice of making a regular
date with ourselves to write, the importance of keeping that date just as we‘d schedule
a lunch with a friend or a meeting with a colleague and would never consider canceling.
One writer’s manual I consult regularly even advises, “Write as though it was
your last day on earth.”
And so, today is what I’ve
come to refer to as “a curveball day,” one on which I challenge the conventional
wisdom delivered to writers by writers.
So really, if today was my very last day on earth, honestly - would I spend any part of it
writing? Probably not!
Today I’ve
accomplished nothing tangible or at least, nothing that looks productive. When
life throws me a “curve ball,” I must summon every ounce of stored knowledge
about what it means to be a compassionate friend - supportive when I myself
have a tremendous need to be both understood and supported.
A long-time friend (let’s call
her Marsha) who’s ten years older than I, phoned me this morning to relay shocking
news. Her husband of 35 years just died. The “just” is as in “just,” – like a
few hours ago.” He didn’t fade away. He didn’t suffer. He wasn’t ill or elderly,
and surely wasn’t taken from planet Earth in an accident. Nope, not at all! Literally
he simply just died, dropped right there in his tracks, just stopped. Most
likely his were hiking tracks, a trail in the wilderness area. My friends live in
the mountains of Idaho and after a full day of hiking, a day filled with sunshine
and majestic scenery, Robert packed their day packs and hiking poles in through
the SUV’s hatch. “My feet hurt.” Robert said
followed by a thud. And, that was it. He was gone as in dead.
Well traveled, vigorous
and adventuresome, these two friends had braved remote regions of Rwanda where
they observed gorillas; the Yukon Territory of Canada where they made camp among
the disappearing polar bears, and to Patagonia to live among gauchos crossing
mountains by day on horseback along terrifying ridges and staggering terrain. When
Marsha described their approaching challenging trips, I pondered the inherent
dangers. It wasn’t out of the question that Marsha and Robert were risking bear
mauling, possible murder by rebels, or death resulting from a fall off horseback
as in a tumble over rocky cliffs? Why at their ages, I wondered, do they pursue
such craziness – the stuff I would have considered only when I was in my 20’s?
Today I’ll obsess about
life’s tenuous nature as I will tomorrow and the day after and many days after
that. Today, I’ll consider the extent to which we take for granted that we’ll
be here next week, next month, tomorrow! We’ll take care of ourselves beginning on Monday, beginning
next week or on our birthdays. Today we’re too busy. We’ll call that close friend of ours who lives overseas, the
one we’ve been neglecting for months. We’ll hug our spouses, our children (grandchildren
if we have any) and our parents if they’re still alive.
Tonight my husband and I are going to a movie. It’s one we’ve been
meaning to see for quite some time. If our friend had known today was to be his
last day on earth, I have to believe that he wouldn’t have chosen to spend it
any other way!
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