By the time this weekend ends, most of our area high schools and colleges will have graduated. Those students will have received all kinds of advice from friends, family, teachers and even graduation speakers.
But this year, I’m offering a unique piece of advice. It’s so important to me that it is engraved on my late wife’s tombstone and tattooed on my left hand: Live your dash.
There’s a poem about your dash, that space between your birth date and death date on your tombstone. The poem says it’s about how you live that dash, that time in between that counts in life.
I can tell you it’s so true. No, I’m not being morbid and suggesting you think about your own mortality. Instead, I’m looking back on a long life so far with a little perspective. A perspective that changed dramatically on Oct. 10, 2017, for me, the day my wife, Amelia, died suddenly.
I’ve been out of high school a long time. As a matter of fact, it’s been 37 years since I walked across the football field at Theodore Roosevelt High School in Kent, Ohio. A little over four years later – OK, four years and an extra semester later — I walked up on stage and received my bachelor’s degree. To some of you, especially the graduates, I’m old. That’s OK, because what I’m about to share you may not learn until later in life.
We’re molded by our experiences. Living from day to day makes up our dash. Some dashes are short, like my friend, Dave, whose dash ended in high school from leukemia. Other dashes are long, like my great aunt, Alice, who spent 106 years on this earth. What matters is what happened in between. I say this because I wouldn’t trade my experiences, both happy and painful, for anything in the world.
When my dad died the summer before I graduated college, I realized life could be fragile. I took chances on jobs, took a gamble on love and so forth. Part of living your dash is having those life experiences. How does a guy from Kent, Ohio, end up as the managing editor of a paper in Columbia, Miss.? Well, I’d say it is through living his dash. That journey also runs from Kent to Beaver, Pa., Buffalo, N.Y., Hillsdale, Mich., Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio, Massillon, Ohio, Pottsville, Pa., Coldwater, Mich., Greenville, Miss., and then onto Columbia. It’s a life full of experiences.
In between all of the moves, I made wonderful friends in each city. Last week, I had the chance to visit some of those friends along with family. My son, Brian, graduated from Mississippi College and we took a trip. For him it was full of new experiences and sights. For me, the trip was filled with memories; memories, that make up my dash.
We covered nearly 3,500 miles and seven states in our journey and ended up in the place where Brian will continue his dash. He’s headed for a new job in Murfreesboro, Tenn., a place that I’d never been until last week.
During our journey, I ate foods from my past. I gathered with my cousins, where we remembered family members who are long gone. I ate a meal with friends I’ve had for decades and rekindled friendships with others. The burgers, pizzas, long conversations and hugs amounted to one great time and a thankfulness for my dash to this point.
This renewed thankfulness for my own life comes from my late wife’s zest for hers. Amelia never stopped smiling no matter what life threw at her. We traveled and even made adventures out of her doctors’ appointments. We shared a passion for life.
Whether I leave this world at 55 or 105, rest assured that I’ve enjoyed my dash.
The best advice I can give you as young graduates is to live your dash. Take a chance on that new job. Guys, take a risk and ask that girl out. Girls – say yes. You might find your soulmate as I did mine. Take time to watch sunsets, enjoy the double burger, spend time with your family and friends.
It’s all pretty simple when you get down to it. My advice, class of 2018 – live your dash!
Reach Managing Editor Mark Rogers at news@columbianprogress.com.
