The number of flags, bumper stickers, T-shirts, and other blatant advertisements broadcast from residences, cars, and retirees themselves was a bit overwhelming for a lad now living “back Wescht,” as we’d say in Ireland. I’m used to the vast majority of flag waving in our town being done by members of our GAA (Gaelic Athletic Association) club. Current members.
It’s Tempting to Romanticize the Past
Every block I walked (before the heat drove me back into the air-conditioning for the day), every street we drove, every shop we visited, and many shoppers within seemed to wave a figurative banner of who they once were. Every branch of the military was represented. (I understand that veterans are still veterans, but you get where I’m going here.) Alumni of scores of colleges and universities touted the colors of their schools in advance of the weekend football games. Even places of former employment were printed on just about every wearable or displayable surface that I could see. And I get it. I cannot tell you how often I have recalled, romanticized, and pined for my days of former glory. I loved what I did. I loved the opportunities my work afforded me. I loved the guy I used to be (perhaps a good bit too much) before multiple sclerosis (MS) set in. For years — and mostly for myself — I waved those flags to remind myself of my days in the sun. Forgetting, as time often allows, the sunburn that accompanied what I considered my heyday.
But Was the Past Really So Much Better?
My current observations of these instances of harking back to our former selves are not my first. I have written a number of pieces about living in the present, focusing on the now, and moving forward, not standing still. But it must be something I need to keep reading (and I suspect I’m not alone), because it can be difficult to realize that some things are gone forever, and some parts of our lives will never be as “good” as they have been. I dropped those inverted comas around “good” for a reason. “As good” is a very subjective term, and I really try to live my life objectively when I can. Often falling short, if I’m being honest with myself. These changes in attitude as I progress through my life with MS are a gradual, often legislatively slow process. I did have an epiphany once, however. When I bemoaned to a former live-in girlfriend (and still dear friend) that I wished she’d “known me when … ” because I was unable to do whatever it was (or at least do it well) that I was trying to do at the time, she retorted, “But I love who you are now. You’re the one who seems to love him more than you.” How about that one to bring you up short?
What’s Lost When We Revere the Past More Than the Present?
My point is that it is surely fun to revel in the (let’s face it, usually perceived) better days of the past. We were younger, things were always going to get better, and we recovered from life’s scrapes and bruises better and faster than we do now. Our worlds might have been smaller, but we were on top of them. But forever looking back on those halcyon (and even hectic) days of before keeps us from our potential that lies beyond diagnosis, beyond the rose-colored memories, beyond yesterday. I try not to even think too far into my future, but that’s a topic for another day. My life — the full living of it — is in my todays. I have MS today, yes. But I also have a lunch date with my literary agent. I have a swim planned after the sun goes behind the trees. I have my sister’s cat sitting on the desk staring at me while I type this piece. Yesterdays are gone, and our future is around a sharp bend around which we cannot hope to see. Today is where I live. Today is where I can make a difference. Today is the day I need to remember this … again. Wishing you and your family the best of health. Cheers, Trevis
