My friend is on the uphill side of sixty, but close enough that I can say he has had the privilege of skiing almost half his life. In addition, he had the good fortune of having in-laws that lived in Montana. Consequently, often when he went to visit, skiing was readily available. The good news is the ski runs were long. The bad news, at least initially, was that some of the intermediate runs seemed beyond his level of expertise. He said it was a simple process. He’d fall down and he’d get up and do it again. In time, he mastered the game.
I don’t remember the process of learning to walk. I bet you don’t either. But wasn’t the advantage of mobility was worth the risk of falling? That, too, was a process of trial and error. If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again. I do remember learning to ride a bicycle. Ronnie and I were six years old and Santa brought us matching bikes for Christmas. They were red American Flyer bicycles with all the bells and whistles. Of course, in thinking back on the style, they’d definitely be described as vintage bicycles today. I guess I really am “old school”. Back in the day (my day), bikes didn’t have different gears or speeds. That’s not to say we only had one speed. Trust me, I could pedal pretty fast.
Normally my family spent Christmas at my maternal grandparents surrounded by aunts, uncles and a wonderful host of cousins, but the year Santa brought our bikes, we stayed in Odessa. Of course, my paternal grandparents lived next door and my dad’s brother and his family lived in the house adjacent to my grandparents. My dad, uncle and granddad all participated in helping us learn to ride our bikes. The fondness of that Christmas lingers in my mind from time to time.
I was sixty-one when I had my first skiing lesson. The adrenaline rush and joy (yes - joy is the correct word) filled me with a sense of euphoria. Later, as I reflected on the experience, I resolved not to settle for anything less than a sense of adventure and wonder with each subsequent day I was given. Life is too short to dissipate into oblivion. I’d much prefer to embrace it by creating a memory.
Shortly after getting my first iPod, I downloaded a Tim McGraw song from iTunes. I think it is the only song I’ve ever purchased from iTunes, but I still periodically listen to it because I find it motivational. “Live Like You Were Dying” was written by Tim Nichols and Craig Wiseman. The song was the winner of the 2004 Grammy Award for Best Country Song. In his book, Nashville Songwriter, Jake Brown shares the story of the song’s origin. Reportedly, the songwriters had a friend, a young father, who received the worst possible kind of news from his physician. As it turned out, it was a misdiagnosis and nothing really to worry about, but initially the young man was really frightened and defaulted to worst possible case scenario. That motivated the writers to seek out the stories of people with the same kind of diagnosis who opted to embrace life and live it to the fullest. They looked for folks who chose the response, ‘Wow, it’s time to get busy,’ as opposed to ‘I’m going to go lay down in my bed and freak out.’
“Live Like You Were Dying” tells the story of a man in his early forties who gets the news that his father has an unspecified, life-threatening illness. His father’s message is to live life to the fullest and do things that he had always wanted to do, such as skydiving, mountain climbing, fishing and bull riding. He also says that he became a better husband and friend.”
“Live Like You Were Dying” is a powerful song:
“He said, ‘I was in my early forties with a lot of life before me
When a moment came that stopped me on a dime
I spent most of the next days, looking at the x-rays
Talking 'bout the options and talking 'bout sweet times’
“I asked him when it sank in
That this might really be the real end
‘How's it hit 'cha when you get that kind of news?
Man, what'd ya do?’ He said
“‘I went skydiving, I went Rocky Mountain climbing
I went two point seven seconds on a bull named Fu Man Chu
And I loved deeper, and I spoke sweeter
And I gave forgiveness I'd been denyin’…”
Perhaps it is strictly coincidental, but many people associate the song with Tim McGraw’s father who was diagnosed with a terminal brain tumor on March 12, 2003. Reportedly, the doctors gave him three weeks to live. In reality, he lived another nine months. He died on January 5, 2004.
Regardless of the story behind the story, the storyline had to have an emotional impact of Tim McGraw. The parallels of the song’s storyline and the true to life experience of the McGraw family are closely interwoven.
The friend that I had lunch with today is having a malignant tumor removed from a kidney in a couple of weeks. This is the same guy who underwent surgery for prostate cancer a few months ago. On both counts his attitude and approach couldn’t be more positive. He has every confidence that it is simply a bump in the road and that God ultimately is in control. His is a sense of calm.
This guy who resolved to conquer the mountain while snow skiing and eventually did so by choosing to get up when he fell down and try it again, has that same indomitable spirit when it comes to choosing to live life to the fullest.
It was an enjoyable lunch. My friend will continue on the path he has successfully negotiated for years. It is a faith walk. It is an adventure. It is a resolve to capture a memory, enjoy the journey, and celebrate life. What an inspiration to others!
All My Best!
Don