Nostalgia

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Status Symbol Unlocked: Enjoying Family Vacations

New status symbol now unlocked: I have reached the point in my life where I look forward to, and truly enjoy, family vacations.

Last summer when we travelled to Oregon, I thought it might have just been a fluke. But no, as a 43 year-old husband married to a 43 year-old wife, along with our 14 year-old son and 8 year-old daughter, we are collectively in a place where family vacations are fun, relaxing, and meaningful.

This past week while we were on family vacation, I was intensely aware of the fact that “these are the good old days”…

As I took each photo of my family in real time, it was not lost on me that I already have everything I want and need right here in front of me. That this is what happily ever after looks like.

I am not looking to the future for things to finally “get better”. No, we have now arrived at our destination.

The entire vacation itself has become the “highlight reel”, as opposed to me finding the best exceptional moments in a week-long series of trigger points for my blood pressure to rise and then for me to emotionally shut down.

No more whining in the backseat. No more fighting over which child “gets to sit next to Mommy” at the restaurant. No more annoying drawn-out bath time or bedtime routines.

No more diapers. No more sippy cups. No more strollers. No more car seats. No more naps.

I have graduated from all of that.

Um… so this is great.

Monday morning, I drove a little over 5 hours to the Gulf Coast, while the kids slept in the backseat and as my wife read us the book, The Let Them Theory.

Then we stayed in a condo right there on the water, but not on one of those overcrowded beaches where loud drunk people would ruin the ambience. Even when we did leave for coffee or lunch, we never needed to drive more than a few miles away.

No traffic. No paying to park. No silly “Lightning Lane” passes.

By the 2nd day of our trip, I told my wife, “This is something beyond a family vacation. This is a family retreat.”

It was very noticeable that each of the 4 of us were truly at ease and connected with one another. No distractions. No obligations. Nothing to be but ourselves.

And I think for me specifically, I needed to see what this looks like.

For years now, I have studied, researched, and even published a book on Enneagram. I am fascinated to learn who everyone is underneath how they behave on the outside.

I love being able to understand how to relate better with all people in my life, but especially my own family.

It is a gift for me to be able see my wife and my kids, as well as myself, for who we fundamentally and individually are. I think that’s a lot of the reason why our Spring Break vacation felt like a family retreat. It’s not just about the kids being less needy and more mature.

Instead, it’s because nearly a year into our move from Tennessee and essentially “rebooting” our lives in a slower pace in Alabama, the fog has cleared. I think all of us are able to see each other in a new light.

My 2 Wing 3 wife and daughter are ambitious, selfless, and sociable.

My 5 Wing 4 son is curious, creative, and reserved.

And much to my surprise, yet no one else’s, I am actually 8 Wing 7: pragmatic, assertive, and charismatic.

So as far as status symbols go, I don’t need a fancy car or a big mansion or expensive clothes. Just let me live a life where I can actually enjoy vacations with my family.

That’s enough for me.

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New Status Symbol Now Unlocked: Old Enough to Actually Have Friends Again

If you can believe it, yesterday marked the 5 year anniversary of the beginning of the Covid Shutdown of 2020.

Later that year, my wife and I planned our first ever “vacation without the kids”. Based on travel restrictions at the time, we chose as our destination: the great outdoors of Colorado.

Before we left, I made a point to reach out to my friend Josh Johnson, who I had heard moved there. He and I had not seen each other since we graduated high school together in 1999.

The vacation to Colorado was definitely one of my favorites, as it was, but seeing Josh again made it even better.

This past week, Josh happened to be in town from Colorado, so we caught up again; which made 40 years since originally meeting in pre-school at Fort Payne First Methodist Church in 1985.

It was while meeting with him this time that I realized: One of my favorite things to do in life is to hang out with people.

In other words, to be social without any agenda. Just to be human like we were designed.

I do remember telling my mom, “I’m big now. I’m ready to go to school.” I remember her taking my picture at our house before she drove me for my first day of pre-school in January 1985.

But it wasn’t about me going there because I wanted to learn. I was ready to go to school because my 4 year-old brain understood clearly: “I am a social person. I need to be around people.”

And anyone who knows me as an adult in modern-day, knows this: I am a social person. I need to be around people.

In hindsight, I now realize that ever since my job went remote 5 years ago, I have been putting in that much more of an effort to proactively connect with people; outside of my own house.

I’m at the gym every morning before work. I schedule a lunch meeting with at least one friend each Friday. I am part of a Jeep club in my town as well.

Anytime there is a social event going on where I live, I am definitely there.

It is now becoming common knowledge that men, especially, tend to forsake other male friendships once they get married and have kids; in addition to the responsibility of their careers.

Male friendships become the lowest priority, by default. That has certainly been the case for me.

But noticeably, these past 5 years since the Covid Shutdown of 2020 have noticeably improved the quality of my life.

Granted, part of that is because my kids are older now and don’t require as much constant attention. And as mentioned before, I don’t have to commute to and from work anymore.

Perhaps it’s a rite of passage for men in their 40s: That there is suddenly more time and space to focus on having other males as friends again.

For me, it’s pretty much a status symbol I have now unlocked.

 

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I Don’t Hate Mondays

If you knew me in high school, you may still have a vague memory of me going around the hallways during break, selling gum from my backpack. Yes, welcome to…“Confessions of a Teenage Gum Dealer”.

It was a different time back then. Gum in the classroom was strictly prohibited. I sold a good that was a true commodity. I provided a service that was risky. The free market rewarded me accordingly.

In hindsight, I apparently felt tied down by the idea of having to commit to just one group of people to hang out with in high school, so I decided it made more sense to bounce around from the skateboarders, to the athletes and cheerleaders, to the gamers playing Doom in the computer lab, to everyone in-between.

And while socially connecting with everyone at school, why not make some money in the process?

I would buy the multipacks of Wrigley’s gum from the grocery store for about a dollar, then only charge 25 cents per pack (which contained 5 sticks of gum) when I sold them at school. That meant I made over a dollar profit for each multipack. And believe me, I sold a lot of multipacks each week!

Naturally, I carried this “Zack Morris” mentality with me to college…

I bought two pairs of old microwaves and mini-fridges from Goodwill; turning my dorm room into the most glorious convenience store. I would go to Wal-Mart and buy microwaveable popcorn, ramen, egg rolls, burritos, and Hot Pockets; as well as other tempting processed foods like candy, energy drinks, and soda.

Just like in high school, running a “small business” allowed me to be socially connected while making some money along with the way. Coincidentally, I lived in Dorm 15 at Liberty University. My regular customers cleverly named my store, “The Freshman 15”; for many of them, it proved to live up to the name.

As I have recently been thinking back on those stories, it finally hit me, this year at age 43:

“Oh… I’m one of those people who will never stop working even after I retire, because if I do, I will die shortly afterwards.”

This does not bother me. Fortunately, I happen to also be one of those people who not only believes, but also lives by, the concept, ‘Find a job you enjoy doing, and you will never have to work a day in your life.”

Funny thing is, most people don’t actually know what I do for a living. Many people assume that I write for a living, or that it has something to do with making YouTube videos. To be fair, I do make a passive side income from those hobbies. (Even my hobbies revolve around me finding a way to make money off of them!)

But my actual job, ever since I graduated college, is I am a recruiter. Basically, I’m a salesman under the division of HR.

I have a monthly quota. My job is find qualified people and motivate them to be interested in one of my company’s openings that needs to be filled- and then lead them through the whole paperwork process and background reports, up unto the point of their first day of onboarding.

I love my job. I love the people I work with. I love the company I work for.

I get a thrill out of overcoming challenges and managing chaos.

Yet, somewhat ironically, I am definitely not a workaholic. I don’t think about work before 8 AM nor do I think about it after 5 PM.

I definitely never think about my job during the weekend. Yet, unlike Garfield, I don’t hate Mondays. I don’t constantly fantasize about taking a vacation. You’ll never hear me complain about my job.

So I’m pretty sure that when I eventually officially retire at some point, I’m still going to be finding ways to make money, while connecting with people.

I suppose it has something to do with me recognizing that work, especially as it relates to earning income and being able to find a way to be of service to others, not only gives me purpose but it also doubles as a much-needed distraction from the big, scary aspects about life that have no satisfying answers or perfect solutions.

There is comfort in the routine. I don’t fight it. I embrace it.

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The Friend You Have Who You Just Pick Up Where You Left Off

We are all familiar with the concept that there are certainly people who you can reconnect with after years of not seeing and you both just pick up where you left off.

Will Coulter is one of those people for me.

He transferred from Colorado to my high school in Alabama in 11th grade. I have no memory of actually meeting him, but I can’t think of my Senior year without thinking of him.

Will is also a reminder to me that while most people tend to operate from a “default personality”, when we pair up with certain people, it can spotlight certain traits even more.

Put Will and I together, and you get… two wild and crazy guys!

There was that time we ended up with access to a giant garbage bag full of fast food hamburgers left over from a church function and we decided we were naturally obligated to see how many of them we both could eat; back at my parents’ house afterwards, sometime close to midnight.

There was that time we joined a last minute road trip for a “college for a weekend” event to a ridiculously strict conservative school, because… at least it was a free trip to Florida?

And there may or may not have been multiple instances involving me driving around in my parents’ hunter green Ford Aerostar minivan late at night down dirt roads, while Will and some of our other friends happened to have paintball guns… using old street signs as targets.

Recently, I pulled out our Senior Yearbook from 1999. Will was voted “Most Loveable” while I was voted “One and Only”. I thought it was interesting what he wrote in my yearbook:

“Nick, it has been great knowing you my Senior year. I look forward to hearing from you later on in life. Keep in touch, Nick. Your friend, William.”

Last Friday night, Will happened to be in town. Obviously, we had no other option than to recreate the photo my mom took of us the moment we graduated high school. We are still both unclear on the exact reason he was holding a walrus.

 

 

 

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Look No Further

 

I can’t think of anything I want. I can’t think of anything I need. I can’t think of what would make my life complete that I don’t have already here in front of me. And I look no further.

That is the point I have reached in life. To be fair, it’s more than a simply accurate assessment of my life, that I suddenly have an awareness of. Just as important, it is an acknowledgement of an arrival to a destination; decades into a journey.

The first four decades of my life were mainly punctuated by questions marks:

“What will it be like when I’m not a kid anymore? Where will I go to college? What should I major in? Where should I move after college? What will my actual career be? Who will I marry? How do I be a good husband? How do I be a good father? What is the meaning of life, anyway?”

But now, my life is punctuated with periods. I don’t really have any questions anymore. And the questions I do have about life… well, no human can honestly know the answer to.

I am not famous. I am not a millionaire. Yet I have more than so many famous millionaires do. If for no other reason, simply because I am not under the belief I that I need to finish the sentence:

“I’ll be happy when…”

Instead, I recognize that if I can’t be happy in the present, I can never truly be happy in the future.

It makes me think of a movie that my wife and I watch at least once every year: This is 40.

Paul Rudd’s wife’s character sets up the premise of the movie as she explains to him:

“The happiest period in people’s lives is from age 40 to 60… So this is it. We’re in it right now. We have everything we need right now to be completely happy. We’re gonna blink and be 90. So let’s just choose to be happy.”

I also am thinking of Jewish comedian Marc Maron as he explains his understanding of Christianity, in his HBO special, From Bleak to Dark:

“Everything will be amazing… when you’re dead.”

I can appreciate his perspective. Perhaps there is too much emphasis on all of our problems going away when either A) Jesus saves us from all of our annoying problems by showing up in the Rapture, or B) we ideally die in our sleep and get to live in the eternal bliss of Heaven.

While I have definitely placed in my faith in the Christian hope that there is a much better life after this one, I have also challenged my belief system by asking myself the question:

“But what if this is all there is?”

In the event that I just die and that’s it… no further consciousness nor accountability, no memories of this life nor connection to the people I knew in it… I would certainly consider that to be a confusing, cosmic tragedy- that life was nothing more grandiose.

But if that were indeed the case, the question becomes this:

“What about my life would change right now, as I am still alive? What would I do differently?”

My answer: Nothing.

As sad of a thought it would be to never see my loved ones again, the greater sorrow would be to live this gift of a human life on Earth while not making the most of every moment and not appreciating what I do have with the people I share it with.

I think of how my daughter has a microwavable baby doll that she places in our bed to keep safe while she is away at school during the day: “Daddy, Gracie is basically a real baby.” I love it.

I think of how my wife and I set up a reservation for Valentine’s Day last week at a fancy restaurant with an amazing view off the side of Lookout Mountain… but then it was so foggy we were not able to even see anything anyway. I love it.

I think of how this past Sunday I walked into the living room to see my son wearing a monkey jumpsuit while throwing his sister onto a giant beanbag. I love it.

I think of how every morning before work and school, I see my wife and daughter having “coffee time” before the day begins. I love it.

But what I can’t think of…

I can’t think of what would make my life complete that I don’t have already here in front of me.

And I look no further.