Next Time

When I was a kid, I remember believing the program dial on a radio took me from my little bedroom in Tennessee to places around the world I could only dream existed.  I would sit on the floor at night, holding the radio (with the antenna extended at maximum length) close to my ear while turning the knob and listening. Breaks in the static revealed music and conversation meant for listeners in far away places. It was probably my first introduction to hearing foreign languages spoken as many Spanish language formatted stations broke through after dark.  I learned a lot about music by doing this, hearing songs I liked and wanted to hear again.  It fueled my imagination; I wondered who might be listening to the song I was hearing from that "other-world" city, and it made me want to travel and see things beyond my own spot of earth.

That period of time was pre-FM, so the spinning dial that opened a gate to the world for me was strictly through AM stations.  FM (which had been around for a long time) became big in my neck of the woods later when I was in high school, which is probably deserving of its own blog post.  But AM radio ruled then and in our little community, just a few streets from our house, sat a giant 50,000-watt AM powerhouse.  It was no joke when someone said they could hear music from WFLI playing from the kitchen sink, or from an electrical outlet, or behind a wall, or… wherever and anywhere.  I thought it was the coolest thing.  It was music, and I was a kid opening my eyes to the world, and for some reason it meant a taste of freedom and the future.  Jet FLI, as it was known, reduced its power at night to only 2500 watts, which probably helped with other stations reaching my listening ears as I went in search of them once night fell.

It was about that time in my life when the use of “someday” and “one day” became a road map of planning things.  One day I would see this, and someday I’d visit that place; one day I’d accomplish (fill in the blank); a great deal of the time I did.  It wasn’t until later in life that those two expressions went from being a pursuit of dreams to procrastination and excuses for not fulfilling them.

On last season’s series of This Is US, the character known as Rebecca rationalized with another one: next time.  Spoilers are ahead in case you’ve yet to see it. With the show’s typical use of flashbacks, Rebecca found herself always using the excuse of “next time” to justify why she didn’t get to see/do something she had planned, usually when she took a backseat to what her kids wanted, or when time for her couldn’t be worked in around other family or work wants.  When it was revealed the character had early stage Alzheimer’s, she admitted to her son how time was running out for next times to happen.  This wonderfully written character said, “My life has been full of next times, things I assumed I would get to eventually. But now I realize I am running out of time to do them.” 

While there are people who live in the now and make the most of fulfilling every possible situation while they have it, that’s not a possibility for many of us.  We settle, balance, compromise, sacrifice, and excuse until we look around and are shocked at where the years have gone.  We realize the boat that’s carrying all of those others to the somedays and one days, and yes, now, left us behind and we’re just treading water with whatever time we have left. 

In 2015, I wrote a blog post (Your Life is Now), that explained how I’d basically started laying out a road map for my future when I was seventeen.  Recalling how I lamented a bit about wishing I could change some things, the biggest regret I had when I wrote it (and still do) was wishing I’d slowed down a bit and savored the now.  Hearing those radio stations through tiny speakers as a youth no doubt kickstarted my eventual planning for the somedays and one day; I can’t pinpoint though when it changed for me.  I have traveled, yet there’s so much more I’d like to see, but the urgency and need aren’t as strong anymore.  Maybe it’s my age or perhaps I’m finally accepting the now; like Rebecca, I also worry about running out of time, but I think that’s due to the unknown of what society is currently facing, in addition to how old I am getting.

I like to think being confined at home during this pandemic opened our eyes, brought others down to earth and made all of us appreciate how fragile life is and what a limited time we’re given. Realizing priorities. Based on some of the ugliness I see on social media though, I know I’m being naïve in thinking this. One can hope though. 

That early foundation known as music set me in motion, and helped me dream.  I wrote much of my book, Daniel’s Esperanza, listening to William Ackerman’s Meditations, and Ottmar Liebert’s Spanish Sun, all instrumental.  If you’ve read the book, and know the music perhaps you can visualize the story and scenes and how they came to be with this musical influence. It’s how I create. Listening to music. The artistic side continues but at a less frenetic and frenzied pace…in the now, and looking forward to next time more slowly.