Back in the day, when faced with any major high schoolish dilemma, the only hack I
thought about in order to be at ease and get through it, was to convince myself next
week, I will be looking at today as nothing but a memory. Thus, dreading the coming of
a make or break final exam, the thought of a scary medical procedure or even the
scheduled rite of circumcision; all are shushed with a single mantra, next week, I’ll be
laughing about this.
With that, the pimply-faced me was able to move on; and however crude to some that
method was, I believe that helped me through adolescence. Thinking back, while I felt
the nitty-gritty of getting things done then was always thru trial and error, I now really
wonder why some of today’s youngsters won’t even view that as a solution. It’s always
rush-rush.
Meanwhile back at the ranch, I have known other hopefuls during our time who whistled
through their problems, using such movie quips like “tomorrow is another day” and “que
sera-sera”. And on to those with the nega streak, our batch ‘s version of today’s
millennial emos plainly declared, ‘tomorrow never comes’ and ‘frankly my dear, I don’t
give a damn’. Rhett or not, all these nothing but ghosts of the past.
In all, whether generational or not, I think there definitely comes a time when one
reaches a certain time where you pause and take stock. Pasture time. Some boomers
whom I consider as idols say this is when the wisdom of the years naturally settle like
sediments at the ocean’s bottom. For them, that’s when one sighs resignedly and admit,
look fella, from what I’ve learned, I’ve no control of the future and however briefly, it’s
only the present I can hold. So, short of being a hedonist, I will strive to enjoy every
single day as it comes and hope to conquer my fears. Well, while these may be wise
words to some, it’s whistling in the dark for others.
At least, that’s what I also gathered from my late grandma and my pops, though
boomers they weren’t. Resignation to what the future brings and faith in God that it will
all be alright in the end. Apparently, there is no right or wrong answer in this. I frown on
those who pretend to know what the unknown brings. Prepare for it they could, but
that’s about it. For what it’s worth, growing up, we’ve all been programmed to be boy
scout-prepared but that, in a sense is, merely putting up a brave front, which is also akin
to whistling of some sort.
So it’s just back to go placidly amid the noise and haste…
