What's Behind Me

My blogger friend over at The Writer’s Closet has put up a list of things she likes. I like lists. I’m a list maker. Usually, it’s things to do. I once made a list of every sport I’ve ever played. I listed all the cities in which I’ve lived. All the jobs I’ve had. And, like every pig-of-a-man I have ever known, a secret list of women with whom I’ve slept. It’s way shorter than my friends' lists. I also made a list of all the liars I know.

There’s all kinds of top ten or twenty or hundred lists, like lists of the best cities to get a latte, the best women’s shoe brands, the nineteen best beaches in the world for seeing men in Speedos without gagging. The fifteen mistakes men make in relationships. (Are you sure it’s just fifteen?) But being that I am middle aged and my tank full of youthful optimism is down to reserves, I thought I’d make a list of everything that is behind me, the things I will never experience again. That’s the list I’m in the mood for tonight.

1. I will never hike the back country of Yellowstone again. This one hurts. Even more than the knees that make it impossible to see that tiny fraction of unsoiled America again. There can be no joy like a first cup of coffee made over burning Lodge Pole pine branches, the smell of wood smoke in my hair, as the sun creeps over the ridge above Howell Creek. I rose before the others to just sit with the wind and Mountain Bluebirds.

2. I will never hit another home run. My days as an athlete are over. Sports defined me for three decades. Even now I coach. But the sound produced when the barrel of a thirty-five ounce bat makes contact with a low, outside fastball is one I will never hear from the batters box again. The solid jolt that shoots through the hands and wrists, the sudden tremor, gone so quickly, but filled with so much meaning as the ball takes off. Only a memory now.

3. I will never be “so full of potential” again. That is for college kids clutching a new diplomas, a newlywed couple, a highly recruited high school quarterback. Or a smart kid with no direction and no family history of success. The problem with being so full of potential is, if you don’t reach it, you are the protagonist in one of the sadder stories in the world.

4. I will never have another chance to straighten things out with my father. He died almost three years ago. I was going to say I’m sorry. So was he. We never did.

5. I will never fall in love again. Well, I guess I can’t say that for certain, but if ever something felt like it belongs on this list, I guess this does. I have found about every way a relationship doesn’t work and can’t last—and none that do work or do last. Testosterone and ego drove me past failure in one love after another, blinded to pain, incompatibility, or even the notion that it might not be love, but a potent amalgam of raw sex drive, pathetic need for validation, and loneliness. It could just be that I don’t really know what love is at all. Now that age has lowered the flame on the sex kettle, and my ego has less need for validation, there’s just loneliness. And that’s not much on which to build a relationship. It’s barely a decent reason to date.

6. I’ll never go pheasant hunting with Zack again. Best dog I ever had. (Yeah, I made that list, too) Not even a bird dog. A German Shepherd. Stayed close, pointed like the best Springer Spaniel. Loved people like they were made of bacon. Goddamn good dog.

I think that’s about all of this kind of list I can stand for tonight. What’s on yours? Aren’t we all just a little tired of the “best” lists and the “top 10” lists and the “five-ways-you-can-intensify-your-orgasm” lists? Lets have a little melancholy in this joint! Let’s look back, not forward. Let’s look in the dark corners, not toward the light. Just for a night, now. Then we can go back to Disney-fying our lives. Then we can be thankful for walking, breathing, brothers and ice cream. And I am. Just not tonight.