Thursday, July 03, 2025

Mattering

I’m not sure that I ever fully appreciated it at the time — in fact, I’m quite sure I didn’t — but during the years that one of my obligations was to drop my kids off at school or camp it actually was a privilege.

Like all adults trying to balance responsibilities, I probably complained about it on occasion, and it certainly could be stressful when we were running late.

But it was a privilege because it was one of my opportunities to play an essential role in our social ecosystem. 

Believing that your role matters is not always the easiest thing to achieve in American culture. Years later, when the kids were grown, I missed it. And I started feeling rather inessential. 

Retiring from work made everything worse, as my professional responsibilities, once deemed by many as weighty and significant, melted away just like those parental duties.

And it was that point that I started pondering how much I ever did matter in the larger scheme of things.

Early in 2020, just as the pandemic was arriving and I was recovering from a stroke, I moved into an assisted care facility. At the time it seemed like the only option left for me. 

In fact, the last place on earth I needed to be was with a bunch of other old people walled off from society, waiting to die. Nothing against the staff members in there, most of whom were terrific, or the residents, but every minute I spent in that place my hope was evaporating and my spirit was being crushed.

But in the end I was one of the lucky ones who escaped. My family rescued me and that’s why I can tell this little story today.

As I woke up one recent morning, it was obvious that the heat wave had finally broken. Fresh cool air swept in from the ocean. 

As I drank my first cup of coffee, my 11-year-old granddaughter appeared. Her parents were busy and she asked if I could give her a ride.

Without hesitation, I grabbed the car keys.

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