My Mom wanted me to be a lawyer or a doctor. I wanted to be a rock star but became a journalist. Nobody lived happily ever after.
This year I turned 70. That should qualify me to give you sage advice. It doesn’t. Which brings me to “Tooter Turtle.”
Tooter was a cartoon character circa 1960. Each week he’d go to his friend Mr. Wizard the lizard and ask him to conjure up an adventure in which Tooter could be something other than what he was. The journey followed a formula: As a result of the Wizard’s incantation, Toot would whirl-swirl and be magically embedded into his “dream job” — whether it be a knight, spaceman, gunfighter, private eye or pilot.
William Barclay, the Scottish scholar/theologian, observed that “There are two great days in a person’s life — the day we are born, and the day we discover why.” Tooter the Turtle never quite got an answer to the second question. Sad for him; fun for fans of the show.
In each episode, just as his quest took a disastrous turn, Mr. Wizard would bring Tooter back from the brink by saying, “Drizzle, Drazzle, Drozzle, Drome; time for this one to come home” — at which time Tooter would be extracted from his doomed misadventure. Then the wise lizard would give the Toot-meister this advice: “Be glad what you is, not what you is not. Folks what do this is the happiest lot.”
I’ve had a few Drizzle-Drazzle moments myself, having worked as a dish-washer, ditch-digger, frozen-snack maker, mason-tender, carpenter’s helper, musician, sailor, mosquito assassin, painter, and salesman — but at about age 30, I decided to go back to college (having previously flunked out) and become a journalist.
As a reporter (and, later, copy desk editor) I was able to feed my family, pay a house payment, keep the kids in shoes and (generally) live hand-to-mouth and paycheck-to-paycheck for a chunk of my adult life. It wasn’t always pretty, but it was occasionally bearable and sometimes even fun.
Who could ask for more? Not me . . .
You may be younger than 30 and still chasing your dream; you may be older than 30 and runnin’ out of steam. My advice: It’s never too late — seriously, never.
About two years ago, I started writing poetry. Apart from being a father, it’s been the most fulfilling work of my life. Playing with words: a wonderful fling. I’m grateful to God that (this late in life) I’ve been given a chance to do something so satisfying. Better than digging ditches. Better than playing bass guitar. And certainly better than cleaning toilets — yeah, I did that, too.
SUNDAY MEDITATIONS ARCHIVE: Click here.
