Lessons from My Seasoned Friends
This weekend, some former neighbors came to visit. We rounded up the old gang—a group who used to gather on patios and in restaurants just to enjoy one another’s company, which is exactly what we did last night. It was good to be back together with this crowd, to break bread together, to laugh, and, with that laughter, to express our affection for one another. Some friends are in their eighties now, some are in their sixties, and I’m a few months away from entering my seventies. I consider those who are older my guides into my later years.
Here’s what they’re teaching me:
- Wit doesn’t have to fade with the advance of time. I’ve rarely laughed harder than I have with this group.
- A sense of adventure can persist as well. We can seek out new experiences.
- What we live through—the joys and the tragedies—shape us but need not define us.
- It’s healthy to look back at the stumbles and miscues of our younger selves with a degree of ironic detachment. We can chuckle at the chucklehead moves we made so long ago.
- If we fall on our faces, we can shrug our shoulders and go on. Who cares what others think of us and our stupidity? We are who we are.
- Stop worrying about making a good impression. Be who you are without apology.
- Remember what it’s like to be afraid, lonely, defeated. Use that knowledge to show compassion to others.
- Don’t deny the end is coming. Move toward that end with dignity and grace and acceptance.
- Look at each day—each minute shared—as a blessing.
- Never lose sight of the people you love. Never forget one of those people is you.
It strikes me that these lessons can apply to the writing we do and the characters and narratives we create. I hope some of the items on my list resonate with you as you consider how to approach not only the way you live your lives, but also the work you do on the page. Here’s the most important lesson I’ve learned from my older friends: Experience doesn’t necessarily make us wise, but it sure doesn’t hurt. We know what we know.
“Stop worrying about making a good impression. Be who you are without apology.”
YES. I am working on this more every day. In life and in how I open up on the page. Authenticity, even in fiction, is everything.
You’re so right in what you say about authenticity. Writing from a place of vulnerability will always come across as authentic.