Hayes
I have a few thoughts on getting older. I know, I know…we all are aging. Time and entropy have a stranglehold on life on Earth. I am concerned with what happens when the order turns to disarray and the imperceptible daily changes accelerate. I am interested when we look in the mirror and ask, “Who is that, and when did this happen?”
I knew an undergraduate student at Harvard named April. She was 19 when I met her. April was so pretty that she wore glasses she didn’t need. She told me she wore them to get some peace. Without them, she was constantly hit on by all shapes and sorts of humans. I saw her once without her glasses. I can still see her face. I must say, I understood her dilemma.
One day I asked April what she wanted to do when she got out of school. She immediately answered, “Chief Justice of the Supreme Court.” The thing about Harvard is you take people seriously when they say something like that. At my first Harvard graduation, Barack Obama was in the group to my right. I didn’t know him, I don’t ever recall meeting him, and my dad still can’t find the DVD he took of the ceremony. There is a good chance the future president shows up somewhere in the footage.
The people I knew there all had big, realistic ambitions. “Hey dude, what equation is going to be on your tombstone?” They would also ask how many inches The New York Times would dedicate to your obituary. You know, simple stuff like that.
I think at some point, most of the people there thought they were the next Einstein. Many of them had never met anyone as bright as they were until they arrived on campus. A small percentage looked around and said, “OK, I guess I have a chance. I don’t see any space aliens roaming around.” For others…their experience was totally different.
I heard a story about Bill Gates. I can’t remember where or when I heard it, but it goes like this. Gates was the most brilliant mathematician he knew when he arrived on campus. He was clearly smarter than anyone who took classes with him or attempted to teach him. After his arrival, it didn’t take him long to realize that he was the 7th or 8th best mathematician on the floor of his dorm. Don’t shed any tears for him; his life worked out just fine. His foundation is working hard to change the world, and it is succeeding.
Lately, I have been spending some time catching up with some people from my past. I have a few reasons for this, and, at this point, I will keep those motives to myself. Unfortunately, what I have found has generally been disheartening and disturbing.
So many of my cohorts and old friends have simply given up. Those dreams of the younger versions of themselves died a slow, painful death. They have fallen into a routine, and that is that. They are heading to retirement with as much enthusiasm and energy as they can muster. The bright, ambitious young people that I knew are nothing but figments, long-forgotten apparitions.
Their lives have been nothing but one compromise after another. They settled mainly because they were too tired to fight. The realization that they weren’t going to do anything extraordinary with their lives was a slow burn more than an unwelcome flash of insight. This is the way of the world. Nothing unusual here.
For reasons that aren’t entirely clear to me, I have not set my mace down. My armor remains polished. I will admit that the chainmail has sections with broken linkage, but it is still effective. While I know it is unlikely to be accurate, I keep telling people that I am delusional enough to think that my best days, my good old days, might still be ahead of me.
This brings me to a man I graduated high school with, a person I have not seen in 40 years. I found him online and sent him an email. I discovered that he is about to set out on an incredible adventure. He is selling all his stuff and moving nearly halfway around the world. I have always called him Hayes. I keep a top-secret list of my all-time favorite people, and yes, he is certainly included.
One day when we were in high school, Hayes mentioned his grandfather to me. I can’t remember the circumstance of how grandpa came up, but I never forgot what Hayes told me about him. “My grandfather lived until he died,” was all that Hayes said. In my mind, that meant that gramps disregarded all the doctors. He also didn’t listen to his relatives and friends. He woke up each morning and got the most out of that day; he damned the torpedoes and moved forward along the path he alone chose. I never met Hayes’ grandfather, but I have always admired him. It sure looks like Hayes inherited his spirit. Three cheers and a tiger for Hayes and his grandpa. I am inspired by their example, as we all should be.
In the last five years, I have twice faced down the maniacal entity that is death. I am not encouraged by what I saw. I am going to fight off the inevitable as long as I can. And, yes, at this point, I am growing increasingly concerned about the natural order of life on this planet. I have a lot of work to do, and I need more time to get it done. Know this, I am not going down without an epic battle; I am confident that inspiration from a man I never knew will steel my resolve. Just like Hayes’ grandfather, I have every intention to live until I die.
Epilogue: The story of Sang Ho Baek
A few months ago, a tragic story involving a 20-year-old pitcher on George Mason University’s baseball team made national news. Sang Ho Baek had elbow surgery and died from resulting complications. A traveling blood clot killed him. This circumstance is precisely what happened to me 5 years ago. I fell while running and shattered my elbow. Shortly after the surgery, I found myself in a field on my knees, having difficulty breathing. The clot had traveled to my heart and got shredded into dozens of clots that filled my lungs. I have no idea why I was spared while Sang Ho Baek was taken from us. I was lucky; he was not.
Of course, as the vagaries of luck would have it, the clots returned last year. This time they cut off 90% of the pathways to my lungs. Once again, I was fortunate to survive. Can they come back again? My doctors say no; the medication I am taking leaves them a virtual zero percent chance of returning. The issue I am facing is residual damage. I will have to wait a while longer to get that all sorted out.
Sang Ho Baek had a limitless future. I feel the need to honor him and all others taken far too soon. I still get a kick out of waking up every morning, and I vow to try my best to make every day count. My contribution to humanity is still to be made, and I am confident I will make it by tapping the keys on my keyboard. I may be misinformed, but by leaving behind a record of what it was like to be me, I hope to offer deeper insight to others about their lives and their place in the universe. After all, to do less would dishonor the memory of those who were never given a chance at a full, productive life.
