[Remarks delivered at 50th birthday party; Zionsville, Indiana]
I was recently asked if I felt old now that I have turned 50. I pondered this and thought back to when I turned 24. It was New Year’s Eve, 1982. I sat at home in Goshen, Indiana, alone. My fiancée had recently dumped me, and I sat alone in the living room of my parents’ house, watching Dick Clark’s Rock’n New Year’s Eve Party. My younger brother was out with his friends, my oldster parents were out at a New Year’s Eve party. EVERYBODY in the world was out at a New Year’s Eve party. Pathetically, I called my ex fiancée to see if she’d reconsidered her position. She was at a New Year’s Eve party and not available.
Enough, I thought to myself, I gathered myself, and headed for the true hot spot of Goshen, the Holiday Inn bar. Any lonely person, no matter how rejected by the world, could at least find some fellow losers at the Holiday Inn bar with whom to fend off the crushing burden of loserdom. I drove my pathetic green loser Pontiac compact car to the Holiday Inn. I walked up to the bar’s entrance. “CLOSED FOR PRIVATE PARTY” read the sign on the door.
Sad, but not hopeless. Goshen’s twin city, Elkhart, boasted an equally hopping Holiday Inn bar. Elkhart, while being a bit more seedy and blue collar than Goshen, actually possessed a more “cosmopolitan” atmosphere (by Indiana Mennonite standards anyway), and so braced to bite off an even bigger slice of life at the wild, urban Elkhart Holiday Inn, I drove on into the night. A twenty minute drive later, I faced another sign: “CLOSED FOR PRIVATE PARTY.”
Now officially crushed, I returned to the living room, and Dick Clark’s rockin good time. As I sat there, it occurred to me that I felt “old”—old to the core. This is what it feels like to be an old person, sitting alone, with no friends, no purpose, nothing to look forward to but further old age and death, nothing to look back on but being a loser. I don’t imagine that I could ever feel more old—24 years OLD.
Now I look at 50, and I think of my two favorite movies: Apollo 13 and It’s A Wonderful Life. I mention Apollo 13 because at 50 it would be easy to look at your life and identify all of the ways you have fallen short. I am not a billionaire, I am not a professional athlete, I haven’t gotten my manuscript published, and oddly enough, I am not ruler of the Western Hemisphere.
In the movie, James Lovell, the commander of the space craft, who never got to step on the Moon, but successfully returned the crippled space craft to earth with no fatalities, referred to the mission as a “successful failure.” I look at my own life and my meager accomplishments, compared to my goals, and say, yes, my life is also a successful failure. Many childhood goals remain unfulfilled, but I look at my three successful children, my beautiful and vibrant wife, and pleasant home with no holes in the roof, and say it hasn’t been a complete bust.
This brings me to my second movie, It’s A Wonderful Life. At the end of the movie, after George Bailey had thought his life a failure, he is surrounded by friends who come to his rescue in the nick of time. As he ponders this, he receives a message from his “guardian angel,” Clarence. Clarence’s message: “No man is a failure who has friends.”
So tonight, surrounded by about 80 friends, my three children, and wonderful wife, I reject any impulse to consider myself a failure or a loser. In fact, tonight, in sharp contrast to that 24th birthday, I do not feel 50 years OLD; I feel 50 years YOUNG!
Thank you all for coming tonight, and may God bless you in the year ahead! Happy 2009, and God bless us all, every one of us!
Copyright 2009—David J. Carr