Your biography has already been written. Don’t you feel special? Well, maybe not.
It’s name is “Death of a Salesman,” and Arthur Miller wrote it with you in mind.
Haven’t seen it? Check out the Dustin Hoffman version on Netflix (streaming) (or rent it on Amazon) tonight instead of vegging to another episode of “Jersey Shore.”
Don’t get angry with me. He wrote it with me in mind, too. Don’t be upset with Arthur Miller, either. He’s just reporting what he sees.
We all want a house on the shores of Lake Wobegon. We want to be exceptional. We want to be recognized. We want to be relevant. We see it all waiting for us on the horizon.
The fact is we all focus on getting somewhere in order to have what we want. When it’s too late, we realize we didn’t get where we wanted to go, and we see the carnage and neglect left along the way.
I remember a story I heard about an event in an Army hospital. A Lieutenant noticed a confused, pathetic old man wandering the hallways. Feeling sorry for the gentleman, the young officer ascertained the old man’s intended destination. Leading him slowly to an exam area, they engaged in random, meaningless chit chat. Once at the reception desk, the Lieutenant assisted the old man in retrieving his retiree ID card. The name on it shocked the young officer.
General William Childs Westmoreland
Even if you have hundreds of acquittals or earn millions, you’ll eventually find yourself insignificant. The results you acquired yesterday mean nothing. Your acquittal last week means squat to your client this week.
Eventually, you won’t be relevant anymore, and all you’ll have are memories of times when you were.
What have you done today to make a difference? Who have you helped? If you’re waiting to get to your destination before attempting something extraordinary, you are going to disappoint yourself and others.
By that time, you’ll be dead.
Yesterday is dead and gone. Tomorrow may never come. Make something happen now.