Life is full of little gems; those moments that you want to bask in and never leave.
Today was a sunny Saturday morning and we had just finished breakfast. Judy and I were sharing a decadent, almond milk mocha—sharing one eases the calorie guilt—when she looked at me and said, “I don’t want to move.” I was confused for a second, but then it clicked that my lovely wife meant, “move from this moment.” And the moment was good.
Just like the core memories in the excellent Pixar movie, Inside Out, moments like this can be used to build a structure of support systems to define who we are. They are the platforms that we rely on to give us stability, strength, and joy in life. It’s all too easy to get lost in the darkness of the day with news services pimping despair and fear to the general public and political posturing dredging up the worst of humanity. Personally, I’m always in danger of being swallowed up by my own darkness, and I need to spend more time documenting these moments of light to keep my head on straight.
Earlier this month we had a lunch out with our kids when we were in Houston, and that was a lovely moment. Everyone was talking to each other and enjoying being together—something not always possible with siblings. The laughter and smiles punctuated that moment and made it stand out as one of the good ones. In fact, all my favorite moments are decorated with the faces of friends, coworkers, and family members. People make the moment.
I have a newfound respect for Chris Rock after watching him with Jerry Seinfeld on an episode of Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee. Something he said stuck with me. In response to Jerry’s question, “How do you like the car?” Chris said, “It’s all about the company. A gourmet meal with an asshole is a horrible experience. A hot dog with an interesting person is an amazing meal.” What a glorious perspective.
I’m the type of guy who picks his company very carefully. The people I work with are as important as the work I get to do. I don’t have time for fake friends and I don’t choose to share my precious moments with just anyone. When we were back in Buffalo last month, I made sure to set aside an evening for my best friend and his wife. He asked where we wanted to eat, and frankly, I didn’t care—just pick a place we can all hang out and talk. It’s about the company.
One advantage of living in San Francisco is that people come here to visit and I get to steal some time with them. My buddy, Mark, flies in from Australia and says we’re meeting up with friends at an SF karaoke bar. I’m there! It’s a great gang that I always have interesting conversations with, so why wouldn’t I make the time? Friends who live in the Bay Area are up for a night out. Why would I miss that moment? It’s so easy to ignore a moment that may end up being one I cherish; I want to capture every one that tries to slip past.
Even the sad moments are worth keeping. Our Houston trip had many great visits with friends and family, but we also had to make the hard decision to put down our 14-year old puppy (she had the joy and exuberance of a puppy at every age). It was the worst feeling to carry out that act, but the final moments with our loving dog were precious. The tears and sobbing reflected just how much love and happiness Magic brought into our lives. I’ll remember that moment because of the wave of emotions it created and because of how wonderfully supportive Judy was during that time. I was a wreck and she held me up. Moments filled with love.
I didn’t make any New Year’s resolutions because they seldom stick, but I’m making one now: I’m going to focus on the moments that matter. I’m going to enjoy those times in life that I get to spend with people that matter. Whatever is happening in the world around me that tries to sink my hope, I will still have these moments to keep me afloat. Thousands upon thousands of moments. Even getting the chance to write this and share it with others is a moment I’ll cherish.