#67 - Civil War Coverage

Civil War Coverage

8/16/05 (#67)

Once upon a long time ago, I sat with my friend Kassie discussing, in the most abstract of ways, the future. We were in our teens, projecting ourselves upon the murky fog of possibilities, and she remarked that these people we were conjuring, five or fifteen years out in front of us, were somehow other people: We were young, not yet tethered to mortgages and car payments, not restricted by the myriad of small responsibilities that make up the modern adult life; these people we imagined had talents, careers, ambitions----everything except a history. We created them from our subconscious, born at age 34 with a resume that allowed them entry into challenging and rewarding careers, with enough kindness and free time to make their imaginary dogs the happiest hypothetical canines on earth.

"But that future you----that's you. You will not suddenly appear in your 30's with a career and a life that doesn't resemble your life now," she reminded, "It's a person you choose to be, and you take actions to be that person."

Kassie did exactly that. She is 33 years old and has already had more adventures and opportunities than most folks have in their lifetime. There is a Zulu proverb that seems appropriate for the circumstance: "You must go fetch the future: It is not coming toward you, it's running away." Kassie was one who always went out to fetch the future---I bet it never gets away from her.

I, on the other hand, can't even recall who I pictured that future me to be. What became of the map of that imaginary career path I was to have followed? How was I able to afford that sedan assembled from daydreams?

I ask because I have now surpassed that fictional conjure in age, and by that virtue, I have becomeold me. Future me was to be confident and self-assured, yet his roster of hesitations has only grown with time; He was to have been ambitious, yet his resume reads like a series of thoroughly researched missteps; He was to have been proud of a body of creative work, yet he fixates on what remains undone while dismissing genuine accomplishments. future me---and it's alarmingly to find him so similar to

Mind you, future me is happy, in ways that old me never knew to imagine. Old me never pictured a big-hearted little girl scurrying along side him while he walked that imaginary dog (who is no longer illusory but is every bit as happy as that fictional dog seemed); future me's wife isn't anything like what old me imagined she would be, but he regularly rejoices because old me had a limited imagination in that regard; old me's forecasting failed to imagine an entourage of any size, yet future me calls more than his fair share of wonderful and diverse people friend. In short, future me's only real problem is with old me.

Old me had expectations, and by virtue of their close relationship, future me has inherited them wholly. Yet future me grudgingly accepts responsibility for these unmet expectations----wasn't it old me's job to strive for those fictional benchmarks? Future me spent most of life as a figment of old me's imagination, and can hardly be held accountable for actions not taken during a period of purely metaphysical existence.

But now, the poles are reversing: old me is becoming a figment of future me's imagination. Once the master mind of their collective destiny, old me has retired into a pool of poorly-recalled memories----and has left future me to discover that many of the things he has believed about himself are not true: Old me left assurances of being an exemplary student in elementary school, but a recent unearthing of documentation proves otherwise: a cache of old report cards* include surprising comments like "Often talks to and bothers other children when he should be working"; "Has not shown any improvement in work habits - does not seem too concerned with school"; "does not interact well." In addition, Old me blamed the inevitability of circumstance for various shortcomings, though a review of the facts finds "inaction" incorrectly filed among those so-called circumstances. No wonder future me is reticent to accept blame: he received a hand-me-down suit made two sizes too-small and is being chastised for not reaching his hands high enough to grasp the elusive brass ring.

Some days, neither one of these versions of me seem imaginary---it feels like is a conversation in a bar, the two of me talking, and their discussion is escalating: Negotiations are attempted then discarded in frustration; tenuous détente is reached, only to have rogue factions of the psyche break the peace; simple conversations escalate into shouting matches only tangentially related to the original topic: and through it all, future me has a growing desire to kick old me's ass.

And old me keeps taunting him to do it. Pride keeps old me from fully-facing his failures, but he has been rooting his whole life for a future me who would stand up and take action, proving once and for all what old me has suspected all along: that future me is strong enough to overpower any other me---and once the fight is over, I will emerge the champion over me.

I am eager for that day to happen. (Me too.)

* Actual comments from my second grade report card. Listed under strengths was just one thing: "A sunny disposition." But that strength has served me well, better than excellent penmanship ever could have.

©2005 wpreagan