Tales From Exit 22 by Al Batt

Change is good.

Ask any baby.

I was in my 40s when I decided to take a leap. I was still playing basketball and softball, but I was considering investing in a nosehair trimmer.

My wife and I had taken a class at the University of Minnesota from our former high school English teacher. I’ve forgotten the class title, but it was on how to get by without a real job even if you weren’t born into great wealth. It taught that we shouldn’t wait until everything falls into place to find happiness, but rather to find happiness and everything would fall into place. I enjoyed the class, but found it more inspiring than instructive. I left the class thinking of Robert Herrick’s writing, “Gather ye rosebuds while ye may. Old Time is still a-flying, and this same flower that smiles today, tomorrow will be dying.”

There was always too much work, too many hours and too little time. I never had to think about what I should be doing. There were too many things that needed doing. I’ve been accused of being a workaholic. It’s probably true. I’m unable to do nothing. I was burning the candle on both ends and one side. If I had to do it all over again, I’d probably overdo it. I needed to make sure that I wasn’t chasing someone else’s dream. My wife encouraged me to cut back on my workload and become a full-time writer. She said I’d be happier. She was right. I did. I was.

I gave up a business that brought in a decent income. It was a company I’d owned and operated. I didn’t dislike the job, but it was as if I were traveling west in a covered wagon and needed to lighten the load even if it meant tossing out grandmother’s prized dressing table. I didn’t miss the job, I missed the people. I only thought I’d miss the money.

It was a job that necessitated going to a lot of meetings.

I still go to a lot of meetings.

I believe that every meeting should have a takeaway. I should leave with something helpful that I carry that approach over to meeting strangers.

What is the typical question posed to someone we are meeting for the first time? It’s “What do you do?”

Some people are happy to talk about their jobs. Others have wearied of their occupations and would rather talk about something else.

We talk about the weather. We have to. It’s law. If we don’t, we face possible fines, suspensions and stomach cramps.

I ask other questions of new acquaintances. “What are your dreams? What have you always wanted to do? What’s it like where you live? What have you learned that makes you happy?”

I particularly enjoy the latter question. It stumps many, but the answers tend to be both delightful and insightful. Here are some common replies.

Find your place at the front of a parade.

Jealousy is a wasted emotion.

You’ll regret the things you didn’t do more than anything you did.

Don’t bury the lede.

Believe in yourself.

Those are all helpful.

What have I learned that makes me happy? I thought you’d never ask.

I’ve learned things. I couldn’t help it. I’ve learned to forgive others. I struggle to forgive myself, but I’m trying. I know a parrot that vocalizes incessantly, mostly unrecognizable babble. The whistles and shrieks make the bird happy. The parrot has learned that listening to him is someone else’s problem.

I’ve learned that the only thing that I can do better than anyone else is to be me.

I enjoyed the movie “Michael,” a 1996 film directed by Nora Ephron. The film starred John Travolta as the archangel Michael, who was sent to Iowa to mend wounded hearts. Michael claimed that he’d invented standing in line. Before that everybody just milled around.

I’ve learned that I enjoy milling around more than waiting in line, even while waiting in line to buy toilet paper.

I’m a faithful follower of Consumer Reports. No, I don’t use it as toilet paper, but in a recent issue, that fine magazine rated toilet paper. Toilet paper is important to everyone except maybe that rugged outdoorsman who insists on using poison ivy leaves. The various brands of toilet paper were rated from bottom to bottom. One brand emerged as far superior to any other. That was White Cloud Ultra Soft & Thick.

I’ve learned that likable toilet paper makes me happy.

 

Hartland resident Al Batt’s columns appear every Wednesday and Sunday.