One great thing

A week or so ago I had went back to Oz to visit my old uni buddies.

Yep we’re all starting to grow hair in all the wrong places, so to commiserate we traveled from far and wide to catch up and no doubt dribble on about our former glories. We even had a name for the get together which adorned our stubby holders and ski caps: “Roaring Days - Forty, fat and full of it.”

That pretty well sums it up.10 guys who’ve been my friends for over 20 years bunkered down to watch some footy games and get a bit drunk. Then we went to lunch – and got a bit more drunk. Then we went skiing for a few days and realized that the footy weekend was not a great preparation for the slopes – but we got drunk again anyway while we tried to manage our pain.

I also tried to deal with the realization that I was better skier when I was 10 then I am now. Ouch.

Anyway, the point is I was a little bit hesitant about the get together. Don’t know about you but I’ve never been too big on re-unions. The whole idea of a ‘how big is your dick?’ contest doesn’t appeal much – especially when my own rather meandering life has left me with little more in the bank then a bunch of life experiences in strange lands. Rather intangible things when stacked up against investment properties and mutual funds.

The other realization is that as I approach 40, I’m single again with no prospect of that changing any time soon. Here I am at an age when most guys are considering what high school to send their kids too - and I’m still heading off on dates with girls that weren’t even born when I was at high school. It all seems a bit self-indulgent sometimes, especially when you look at the effort my mates put into their families.

Well I needn’t have worried too much about these blokes. While there were plenty of oversized egos – lots of beer and bravado – but what was more notable for me were the frank admissions of things gone wrong, the inner demons laid bare, and even a sobering cancer survival story.

Not much chest beating at all, which in the end says a lot. You get to an age where what matters most, to you and to them, is whether you’re happy with your lot.

Usually we’re our own harshest critics, so facing up to your friends usually just means facing up to yourself – warts (and bad hair) and all. But after a fun week, I did have a one insight in beyond my own mid-life navel gazing. It was pretty clear to me that the most of us had something important driving our lives.

While it may sound straight out of a self help book, I think the old adage of ‘find something you’re good at and find something you love doing’ seems to stack up. One to keep you with a roof over your head, the other to keep your motor running. And while bragging rights often go the former – it’s the latter that seems to make people fire up.

Rarely does advertising rise above irrelevance these days, especially when looking at the bigger questions in life, but there is a campaign I’ve been a part of for Johhnie Walker that sums up the sentiment pretty well. (Yes I know, from an alcohol company, but go with me on this one). In the ad an Android talks about how our future, our human lives, can be defined by doing one great thing.

Now that one thing might be raising a family, taking up painting or lowering your handicap – it’s different for everyone. For me it will be getting my book published, and perhaps writing a few more. I guess it’s an ambition that elevates a sometimes meaningless life above the inevitable setbacks we all go through. Something, as I said, that gets you going in the morning.

Apart from that, I guess I’ve realized after the trip that I’d like to settle down again.

That will be a relief to some I think - given that the idea of me dating well into my forties is as scary to my mates as it is to me. Because apparently if I’m single and there are teenage daughters about, I might be banned from future family oriented re-unions.

A sobering warning I reckon. Don’t worry guys, I’m working on it.