When I Grow Up

I took a brief hiatus from writing during the holidays. No one noticed, but that's OK. I figured that you were on hiatus too. At any rate, all the Christmas hoopla, New Year's hoopla and just general hoopla gave me the chance to think about some things – always a dangerous process. I spent some time thinking about what it's like to be a kid. Parenthetically, I know that some folks out there hate the term “kid” when it refers to human children. I once had a woman become indignant, telling me that they are NOT goats, they are children. Obviously she had never lived with human children or she wouldn't have made that statement.

When we're kids, we spend a lot of time talking and thinking about what and who we'll be when we grow up. When-I-Grow-Up-Land is a magical destination when you're very young. I's the place where you can be in charge of everything. You can have any job you want, wear what you want and if you want to eat ice cream for breakfast, no one will stop you.

Apparently, When-I-Grow-Up-Land doesn't exist. At least I haven't stumbled across it yet. I still have people who tell me what to do and when it should be done. I have to wear approved clothing because image is important. If I want ice cream, I have to go against the advice of nutritionists and health care professionals. What a drag!

As a child, there were a lot of different things I wanted to be. My father was a military man, so for a very short while, I thought that must be my destiny as well. I quickly realized that my personality wasn't suited to the style and mission of the military. I hate taking orders. I hate not being able to dress in jeans and t-shirts. I also hate the idea of killing or being killed or being told where to stand when it happens (thanks, Max Klinger, for that one).

For a while I had a real interest in science. Maybe being a scientist was my future! Before long, I found that a severe lack of mathematical skills was an impassible barrier for my scientific ambitions. I still love science, particularly the study of outer space and the universe, but other than watching the Discovery Channel, I'm not really active in that milieu.

My interest in music began when I was in junior high school. I took up the acoustic guitar and dreamed of playing in a band. As I grew, I found that there were (and still are) a huge number of people who are much better musicians than I. I still enjoy playing, but the truth is that you'll never hear me playing an acoustic set at your local coffee house unless one of us has lost a bet.

In college, I discovered an interest in and modest talent for writing. No hit songs or great novels have materialized, regardless of my supposed talent. I did use my journalism training in writing a number of items for the community columnist feature of the local newspaper, which is fun and makes you feel like you're important. I'm not a bad writer. I'm just not a great one. There are a lot of those around and not a lot of room for more. It may be that my local newspaper rants and this blog will be the best creative writing I will ever do. If so, then that's the way it is. Like music, writing can be valuable simply because it is enjoyable and allows me to express myself even if no one is listening or reading.

The question facing me now is this: What do I want to be when I grow up? I still don't know. There is another question that I have to answer first. The question is: Do I want to grow up? After all, it's more fun trying new things than being tied down to old ones that leave you no room for exploration and discovery.

For now, there will have to have to be a vacancy in When-I-Grow-Up-Land. I'm still deciding who I am.