Excerpted from Chapter 16: Mares Eat Oats in “The Best Day: A Memoir of Finding Joy, Inspiration, Resilience and Hope”
Everyone remembers their first car, their first kiss, and of course—their first concert. For my almost twenty-nine-year-old daughter Atara it was ‘Sesame Street Live’, for my twenty-seven-year-old son Micah it was ‘The Wiggles’ and for my twenty-four-year-old son Elan it was ‘Glee’. For me it was Neil Diamond. The opportunity to see him live in concert was like a dream come true for me.
I was ten years old and the concert was at the Forum in Inglewood, California which I had only known as the home of the Los Angeles Lakers’ Kareem Abdul-Jabbar and Magic Johnson. When we went to see Neil Diamond, our first stop was at a concession stand to buy soft drinks and a commemorative program that I still have. At the concert, I clearly remember my parents singing their hearts out to Song Sung Blue, I Am… I Said, and Sweet Caroline. We had seats, of course, but no one sat down at a Neil Diamond concert in that era. Halfway through his set list, Diamond sang the song he had just released and which I already knew by heart: America from the movie The Jazz Singer.
This time, I joined in belting out the inspiring words:
Far! We’ve been traveling far! Without a home but not without a star.
I didn’t quite understand the impact of this hopeful song until I visited New York’s Ellis Island as a teenager, standing where my paternal great-grandparents once stood when they came to the United States.
Over 12 million immigrants passed through Ellis Island between its opening in 1892 and closing in 1954, serving as the primary gateway for new arrivals to America, often from Europe. So many, including my great-grandparents, came to the “land of the free and home of the brave” as part of the mass migration in the late nineteenth century, looking for peace and prosperity.
As humans we long for a place we can call home. Home ideally is our sanctuary for familiarity and safety, tied to cherished memories, connected to loved ones, and to a profound sense of belonging. Coming home fulfills our innate need for security and identity, whether it’s a physical place or the people with whom we share it. Home is where we feel authentically ourselves. It is our personal haven from the outside world of uncertainty and havoc. Home is a place where we can confidently dream about how our lives will connect with the rest of the cosmos.
During a family trip with our three children to Los Angeles in 2015, I reminisced as I drove up and down familiar streets, reliving the happiest days of my childhood. Each road led to another memory—where I went to school, the three different places our family lived, and even the site of my first traffic ticket and first car accident.
It was only when we returned to Detroit that I wondered if I had lived too much in the past while we were in Los Angeles. And if so, did this interfere with my ability to be fully present with my wife and children during the visit?
While I was showing off the city of my youth to Atara, Micah, and Elan—did my fondness for the past get in the way of creating memories in the present? I pondered these questions because I have known so many people who lose the ability to fully appreciate and enjoy the present moment because they are living so much of their lives in the past, often without even realizing it.
Most of us are continually navigating time frames throughout the year. Shopping malls are notorious for prodding us to live in the future, like going to the store in January to find new summer clothes—or shopping for “back to school” the moment summer vacation begins. And we all know how early December holiday displays appear.
At the same time, we also may be living in the past by clinging to old habits or nostalgically summoning memories of “the way things used to be.” Anniversaries can be especially tricky since the main event happened at some point in the past and we are faced with making it equally relevant, meaningful, and exciting in the present.
I was struck by Lunar Module Pilot Buzz Aldrin’s reflection on the history-making moment when he and Commander Neil Armstrong landed Apollo 11 on July 20, 1969.
They became the first people to step onto the surface of the moon!
“You’re on stage,” Aldrin explained. “But it was a very unusual stage. When we returned home, we saw the reaction of the people.
And then I said to Neil, ‘We missed the whole thing. We didn’t share the moment of exhilaration down here on Earth. It was like we were out of town doing something else.’”
Wow! On one hand, Aldrin and Armstrong were part of a unique milestone in world history. On the other, they felt isolated because they could not celebrate with their family, friends, and the American public. Aldrin was unable to fully experience that best day.
I wonder:
How often are we authentically living in the present, appreciating every moment exactly as we experience it?
How frequently are we together with loved ones in body—while our minds are thinking and preparing for everything we have to get done in the next day, week, or month?
Life is short and I worry that we are rushing through our lives.
Consider:
How often does your family still gather around the dinner table and, after the dishes are cleared away, linger to talk, tell stories, and laugh—sometimes for hours?
Are young ones in your family included in such circles?
Do you enjoy pulling out board games or card games?
When our children and grandchildren are telling us about their day, do we continue to stare at our phones or tablets?
As the years swiftly pass, we begin to realize the importance of these questions. All too soon, we will have far fewer “todays” left in our lives. And, at that point, a lot of us become frustrated, even angry at ourselves, as we think: If only I would have known the importance of the moment at the time, I would have really lived it.
As youngsters, we try to convince ourselves that life will begin after we finish high school, when we can leave home and be totally independent! Then, when we graduate from college, we tell ourselves that real life will start after all of our demanding professors, deadlines, and exams are past! This pattern may never end.
We can come to believe that the best days of our lives will commence after we are married and have children or when we lose some excess weight or when we can afford a nice car or when our home is paid off or ultimately when we are able to take a luxurious vacation. Some people even go as far as to say that life finally begins when they retire and all the kids are out of the house.
To live more fully, let us open ourselves up to more frequently experiencing the present in the present, seeing each and every day as a gift. In so doing, we will discover that the full awareness of “today” brings with it a wealth of connections we have made throughout our lives and a vast story of the countless ‘presents’ that continue to make the sacred moments in our lives truly ‘best days’!
Rabbi Joseph H. Krakoff is a hospice chaplain and owns a home in The Palms. In addition to The Best Day, he is also the author of Never Long Enough: Finding Comfort and Hope Amidst Grief and Loss. He can be reached at [email protected] or http://www.josephkrakoff.com.
