Apr
27
2010
When I woke up on Christmas morning and saw the box in the corner of our living room, I shot Stephanie a disapproving look. The present was the size and shape of a flat screen television and although we had discussed buying one on many occasions, we ultimately decided against it until the time was right. So as the presents were opened by the kids, I tried to ignore the gift in the corner that seemed to grow ominously larger by the minute.
Finally, Stephanie said, “I would like you to open my gift,” as she pointed toward the box I had been ignoring.
“Steph…”
“It’s not what you think it is! Open it.”
I walked across our living room as I made one last plea to open it later after the kids had gone to bed. I didn’t want them to get too excited just in case we had to return it a few days later. Stephanie rolled her eyes at me as she excitedly said, “Just open it!”
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Apr
12
2010
As the house lights came down and darkened the theater before the second act began, a hush washed across the audience. As we sat in the silence, we heard delicate fingers dancing on the ivory keys as the hallowed white spotlight framed the cast of RENT against the backdrop of a darkened stage. As I visually grasped the context of the scene, the angelic choral began, “525,600 minutes, 525,000 moments so dear, 525,600 minutes – how do you measure, measure a year? In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee. In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife. In 525,600 minutes – how do you measure a year in the life?”
The poignantly painted imagery enveloped me in the moment and the lyric sent chills down my spine. It was a provocative, rousing, infectious and yet, an eerily ironic moment in the annals of my life. As I was winding down the final minutes of another year of my existence and preparing to embark on yet another 525,600 minutes of my own, I had recently been deliberating the same question; how do I measure success?
Later on in the evening as I sat in my family room and counted down the minutes to midnight, I thought about the past year and again I found myself contemplating how I measured my own achievements. Is it my career? Is my bank account big enough? Do I have the perfect house? The perfect car? The perfect life? Have I finally become one of the “Joneses?” And whether or not I have, is that enough? Or is there more?
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