Honor

I remember saying once at a party, maybe twelve-fifteen years ago, that our generation's desire was to live our whole life just like we lived in college.  Everyone, laughed, and it was regarded as an insightful witticism.  It was true then, when we were facing thirty.  Is it true now?

I still find myself clinging to fantasies of a life of joyous irresponsibility.  I try to tell myself that it is freedom, not irresponsibility, that I fantasize about, but that's a lie.  Like it or not, as we form attachments in life, we become responsible for them, and to them.  It doesn't matter if the attachment is to a partner, a spouse, a pet, a child, a home, a way of life, we have responsibility for that attachment, a duty, an honorable duty, to treat that attachment with respect, to nurture that attachment, and to add value to that which we are attached.

It is the fantasy that says that our attachments don't need that respect, nurturing, or value.  Our attachments are organic things, and they need attention to prosper.  Committing to someone, or something, and not giving it your attention is like planting a vegetable garden, and not watering it, but still expecting to reap in it's harvest.  You only reap what you sow if you do all the hard work in-between.

I thought I was very clever with that witticism, all those years ago.  I patted myself on my back, and my friends did, too.  I think most of them learned to move on, though.  I didn't.  I spent many more years clinging to the irresolute life of a mediocre college student.  It gave me a good excuse to drink too much, eat junk food, and accomplish nothing.  

I'm married now, to the right woman, with a house, a job of some responsibility, even pets.  It's taken time, but the dishonorable life of a mediocre college student is no longer for me.  Now it's the not the bar, but the kitchen that I look forward to after a hard day's work.  It's not the latest blockbuster release, but the simple pleasure of tending to the details of my life that I will look forward to on the coming weekend.

We get water in our basement, and when it pours the water comes in pretty freely, in two places.  I dread those days, I get all anxious in my shoulders, and queasy in my stomach.  But now, facing Spring weather like it's the barrel of a gun, I don't feel that way, even though it is raining as I write this.  I feel liberated.  This is my house, and it is my honorable duty to care for it, and if that means digging up the shrubs and re-grading so that water stays out, then that is what it means.  It doesn't mean I won't worry, it just means I will embrace the challenge of solving problems, instead of the fear of the problems themselves.

My friends have a quote painted on the dining room walls, that speaks to the effect of "Doesn't this home deserve our love and compassion, our care and our creativity?"

The answer is a resounding yes.  As is does not my life, my wife, my home, my car, my pets, my being deserve love, understanding and care?  Do I not deserve those things?  Do I not desire them?  There is a belief that you only get in this life what you are willing to give.

I once was an immature ass, and I'll be damned if I'll be one again.  It's time to get to work.