The following exercise is not for the faint of heart, or those who like to deliberate before answering an important question. No, this is for those who like playing say, word association games, and don’t mind making mistakes.
First, let me set the scene. It’s a mid-September evening. Cool and breezy. I’ve scored a permit to have a beach fire and even if we may nearly freeze to death, I’m going to have the celebration at the beach anyway because it’s my birthday. And not just any birthday. A big birthday. A new-decade birthday. Which calls for cake and friends and wine and a beach fire.
All is going shiveringly smoothly. There’s laughs, there’s food, there’s coconut cake, my favorite, and a friend has brought sparklers because she knows a highlight of my childhood was running around the backyard barefoot with lit sparklers on the Fourth of July.
Another friend decides to jump into the mix of mostly light conversation with this: “So, Ginny, give us a highlight of each decade so far.”
Give us a highlight of each decade so far? From birth to now? A more timid soul would have demurred. “I can’t pick just one thing from (gulp) six decades of life,” I should have said. But no, I was game to try and without thought (that’s key to playing this game if you dare) I dove right in.
First decade, 0-10? “A carousel cake,” I answered. A bazillion things happened in my first 10 years, but I was birthday-focused so what came to mind was the one year when I was 5 (I think) and my mother got me the most beautiful birthday cake in the entire world featuring a carousel of flying horses on top. I never felt so celebrated and special, which as one of eight was not the norm.
Second decade, my friend prompted, 10-20: “Um, getting into Boston College,” I answered. Coming to Boston at the age of 17 changed my life in every way, so choosing BC was a no brainer.
Third, 20-30. “Well,” I exclaimed “that’s easy!” I didn’t notice David, who was standing nearby, standing a little taller, waiting for the inevitable “That’s when I met…” as I spilled out these words instead: “That’s when I met Bill and Paul!” referring to Weld and Cellucci, the two governors I started working for starting when I was 24. Did I imagine it or did the small crowd let out a small gasp? I looked across at a friend who was giving me the eye and surreptitiously pointing to my husband. “Oh,” I hastened to add, “which is how I met David!” But I think I was doubled over laughing too hard to get those words out in any credible way. Luckily, my husband is secure enough not to mind (too much) my slip. I told you this game is not for the faint of heart (or marriage).
Onward. 30-40. “Had my kids,” I answered (Again, probably imagining it, but the crowd seemed to sigh in relief that I said the right thing this time.)
40-50? “Working at the Herald,” I replied. The job at the Boston Herald writing editorials and columns was a true joy, coming after a career derailment. It also allowed me the now nearly extinct opportunity to work in a gritty city newsroom environment. There were literally blood stains on the floor. And characters and drama galore.
50-60? “Publishing my book,” I said. Another dream realized.
I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that the tip-of-my-tongue answers to half my decade-highlights involved my career. My sister once said, offhandedly, that I defined myself that way. I don’t really agree, particularly because I had to start over after a successful career at 36 years old. But what I understand now is the tip-of-the tongue answer is not simply about career but about the purpose infusing those decades.
It was the philosopher Nietzsche who said, “He who has a why to live can bear almost any how.”
As a kid, my “why” was feeling loved. What other purpose does a kid really need to have? And in my second decade, getting into and attending the college of my dreams is the stuff of teenager-why-hood!
Young 20s for me was getting to work in the magnificent State House for two reform-minded leaders — a chance to change the world kind of “why.” My 30s? Being a mom is a why that lasts a lifetime, it turns out. My 40s brought me to writing, a “why” I dreamed about since childhood. And then in my 50s, I brought that purpose to full flower with the publication of a book.
So here I am at the doorway, albeit one foot barely over the threshold, of the next decade. When I turn 70 and play this game again (if I’m still foolish, er, brave, enough), what will I say? What “why” will be on the tip of my tongue?
If you decide to play “a decade for your thoughts,” too, don’t think, just answer. I bet you find your “whys” make perfect sense when you also consider the “hows.”
Virginia Buckingham is a former president of the Marblehead Current board of directors, a frequent commentator on WCVB’s On the Record and author of “On My Watch A Memoir.” She is working on a second memoir, “As This Mountain” in her newly empty nest and writes a biweekly column for the Current.
Virginia Buckingham
Virginia Buckingham is a former president of the Marblehead Current board of directors, a frequent commentator on WCVB’s On the Record and author of “On My Watch A Memoir.” She is working on a second memoir, “As This Mountain” in her newly empty nest and writes a biweekly column for the Current.
