Forty-Three and Climbing

 

Here I sit, in the middle of another July, approaching another birthday. And, as usual, I've been doing some reflecting on the path I've followed to bring me to this point in my life. Each year since I began these birthday ruminations has been one of change and surprise, a carnival ride rampant with twists and turns; filled with jaw-dropping excitement, stomach-turning distress, and swirling emotion. Long ago I stopped trying to predict how my life would proceed. I have no idea. None of us do. How could we? Every day that passes, every decision I make alters my direction. Most do so imperceptibly. Many, however, do so with outrageous aplomb. No matter the circumstance, each little thing that affects my life alters it as stones do a river.

This birthday, though not a major milestone, brings a different kind of remembrance; later this fall, I'll be celebrating my twenty-fifth high school reunion. That sole fact creates a multitude of reflections and queries – Who was I then? Who have I become? And how did I grow from the boy that I was twenty-five years ago into the man I am now? What happened to me in two and a half decades to mold and shape me?

There are far too many answers to those questions, and likely more questions raised by those answers, than I can write here. Suffice it to say that my life has been interesting, if nothing else. For the past three years I've tried to capture my life through applicable song lyrics, a kind of snapshot of me as I ponder my age and mortality. Last year it was a snapshot in a near-literal sense, as I utilized the words of the Imagine Dragons song Polaroid. This year I find myself relying on Eric Church and his aptly-title tome, Mr. Misunderstood.

 

Hey there, weird kid in your high-top shoes
Sitting in the back of the class; I was just like you

Always left out, never fit in

Owning that path you're walking in

Mr. Misunderstood, Mr. Misunderstood

            Granted I didn't wear high-tops back then, and only in my forties purchased my first pair of Chuck Taylor All-Stars, and they were low-tops at that. Nevertheless, this opening stanza of the song deftly summarizes my high school years. I was one of the weird kids, literally sitting in the back of the class. I had a handful of friends, but generally never fit in to one clique or another. I didn't go to the parties, I didn't go to homecoming, I was just, well, me. I existed. There were times it pained me, but for the most part I was content just being who I was, even if I didn't fully understand what it meant to be me.
 

Now, your buddies get their rocks off on Top 40 radio

But you love your daddy's vinyl, old-time rock and roll

Elvis Costello, Ray Wylie Hubbard, and think Jeff Tweedy is one bad mother

Mr. Misunderstood, Mr. Misunderstood

This passage is perhaps a bit more metaphorical for me – Even with those I called and continue to call my close friends, I've had, over the years, a great deal of difference. Whether, in the case of the song, it pertained to musical taste, sports, cuisine, or my lifestyle, there have always been those things that set me apart just "that much" such that I've always been a little odd and dissimilar. It took me years to realize and accept that there is no shame in my differences. Ask any friend how I feel about camping. It's just not me. And that's okay. Everything is okay. I don't have to completely fit in; I don't have to conform. Many people have difficulty understanding that, and I certainly am no stranger to the notion that I needed to be something I wasn't in order to be accepted. Now, frankly and for the most part, I don't give a shit. Of course there will always be a part of me that subconsciously longs for the acceptance I claim I don't need, and that's a demon I'll always fight. I'm grateful to say that in these last years, that conflict has dwindled.

One day you'll lead the charge, you'll lead the band

Guitar Hero with lightning hands

And the girls will like your tattoos and the veins in your arms

They'll be helpless to your musical charms

And they'll all hold up their hands

And they'll all wanna dance

With Mr. Misunderstood, Mr. Misunderstood

 Well, I don't play guitar, and I don't have all the girls fawning over me, but I have noticed something interesting as I've grown older. I've changed, matured, and grown into myself, and when a person does that, others take notice. I'm now closer, in my forties, with those with whom I barely spoke twenty-five years ago. Why is that? I like to think it's because we've all grown and matured, and learned to accept others for the people they are and who they've become. People notice and appreciate you more greatly when you are nothing more than who you are. Again, this is a lesson it took me years to master. I've been very lucky as I've developed a following here on this blog and among my friends of those eager to dance to the music I've created, i.e. the words on these pages. The outpouring of support I've received for my writing is humbling. And, conceitedly, yes, I do revel in the fact that the girls do, for the most part, like my tattoos. I learned to be myself, and I am ever so grateful that you reading this have accepted the me that I am.

First time I met Alabama Hannah, I was skinny as a rail

Red hair tied up in a blue bandana; she was hotter than the devil's Hell

She turned me on to Back Porch Pickers, Jackson Pollock, and gin

Her daddy didn't trust my intentions, so he turned to his daddy's old .410

I'm Mr. Misunderstood, Mr. Misunderstood

Here again I turn to the metaphorical meaning of the song's lyrics as I interpret them in relation to my own life. Thankfully, no one's father has ever chased me away with a shot gun, but there's no question that the relationships I've had have altered the course of my life. Whether with friends, family members, girlfriends or wives, each relationship I've been in has opened my eyes to new things, experiences and emotions. I've embraced the things, both positive and negative, that I've taken from all of these relationships. I've come to appreciate new music, locations, foods, and aspects of both others and myself that perhaps I wouldn't have discovered otherwise. I am the sum of my experience, and I am thankful that despite any negatives, I'm able to draw from my relationships and interactions something positive in every instance.

Had an axe to grind, so off I went

Mad at the sun for coming up again

I lost religion, found my soul in the blues

Rubbed the velvet off my blue suede shoes

Yeah, everybody held up their hands

And every soul on Beale Street danced

With Mr. Misunderstood, Mr. Misunderstood

 

So I went with it like a colt on my Plymouth

Through the glass behind my rear-view

Took a left when the world went right down 16th Avenue

Played with fire and I played on ledges

Every circus, stage, and county fair

They tried to file my points, sand my edges, and I just grew out my hair

I'm Mr. Misunderstood, I'm Mr. Misunderstood

There came a point in my life when I had to decide for myself that I was to be who I would be, regardless of what others thought or wished. Without doubt I had my axes to grind, and I questioned how and why things happened in my life; I was angry, or depressed, and many times had no idea why. I lost my faith, and found it again in places I'd never expected to find it. Those around me helped me to do so, and supported me in doing so, holding up their proverbial hands as I threw off expectation and ventured forth on my own path once again. I travelled, did things I'd never done, and certainly played with fire on more than one occasion. I lived¸ and joyously remembered the feeling of doing so. Those points and edges of me that had been filed have reformed their sharpness and grit, to some's chagrin, and others' delight. Take from and of me as you will; that's you're prerogative. Me? I've learned to be me, and happy with who I am.  

They're standing in line, chasing the buzz

Til the next big things and already was

And hell if they know what they're trying to find

If it ain't that same old, been-done kind

Yeah, gives the head-scratchers fits

Wondering how in the hell they missed

Mr. Misunderstood, Mr. Misunderstood

 

There are still so many of us who don't know what it is we're looking for or who we are. We chase fads, listen to criticism, hold on to ideas and ideals we should have abandoned long ago. We confuse ourselves with uncertainty and the unknown. We lose ourselves, but there comes a time when we finally wake up and wonder how, how we missed the people we are inside. I did just that – I looked at myself in the mirror and asked myself "who are you" because, for a long time, I'd forgotten the answer to the question. I didn't understand myself. I probably don't fully even now, and likely never will, but at least I have a much clearer picture.

 Hey there, weird kid in your high-top shoes

Sitting in the back of the class; I was just like you

Mr. Misunderstood (I understand).

Misunderstood? Feel like you don't fit in? Not quite sure of who you are? Yeah, I understand. Even now I often find myself misunderstood in the sense that there are still those that can't figure me out. I'm a writer; if you can figure me out, please let me know, because even I can't a lot of the time. I've come to realize, however, that being misunderstood, or not fully understanding yourself, is okay. Not everyone needs to understand you. Hell, no one needs to understand you. You don't need them to understand you. You don't need their validation. You don't need anything from them. And as strange as this may sound, even you don't have to understand you. That lack of understanding helps us to learn about ourselves, helps us to grow as people. It confounds us at times, and inspires us at others. We are ever changing, and change is so often misunderstood.

Two weeks from today I will be forty-three years old. I'm still misunderstood, and you know what? I almost prefer it this way. Those that love me, love me regardless. I am a blessed man to have so many family members and friends who care so much, even if they don't get me a lot of the time. And as I grow older, I've come to appreciate them all the more, and to appreciate the differences between us that I may not understand. And I appreciate each and every person reading these words, whether we've met or not; You've all taken an chance on the weird kid in the back of the class, the one you don't understand, and helped him evolve. You may not understand just how you've done that, but trust me, you have. Thank you. Thanks for helping me be me.

~JJ

 

© 2016 JJ Goodman. All rights reserved.