My Story

“The tendency of the human mind to see everything connectedly is so strong that in memory it unwittingly fills in any lack of coherence. . .”  (Sigmund Freud, 1856—1939)

“It’s cloud illusions, I recall . . .”  (Joni Mitchell, 1943--) 

I have an internal narrative, a story I tell myself, about myself.  My story is built upon memories.  However, over a lifetime I recall only bits and pieces.  I forget much.  I remember best the unusual out-of-the-ordinary occurrences.  I occasionally recall seemingly random and otherwise trivial memories. I often forget the everyday occurrences of my growing-up. 

There is bias in my recall. The memorabilia, the photos and the papers I hold on to, that I use to reminisce, have been kept and stored over the years because they are flattering or they bring to mind select special moments.

I remember best that which is most compatible with my self-narrative.  I likely filter and discard those memories that might refute my self-perception.

And, the story I tell myself, about myself, is different from a story about me as it would be told by my wife, or children, or friends. Whose story would be closer to the Truth, if there even is such a thing?

From the Oracle at Delphi we’re told, “know thyself.”  From Socrates we’re told that the unexamined life is not worth living.  If true, I must examine my self-narrative with a critical eye, asking a series of important questions.  First, how consistent is my self-narrative and how accurate am I with my facts?  Where might my recollections be distorted?  What has been over-emphasized, made bigger than it was at the time?  What of importance has been glossed over? To what degree have I over-emphasized the unusual and neglected the day-to-day?  I must not only examine the contents of my narrative, but I must ask what have I omitted from the story.  What have I ignored? What have I forgotten? Why have I forgotten?

I need to examine closely my explanatory biases.  How do I explain what I do and why I do it?  To what do I attribute causality?  To nature?  To nurture?  To chance and circumstance?  To my free-will and the choices I have made?

For those of you who, like me, have a self-narrative, we do so because we are wired to do so.  We look at the night sky, see patterns in the stars and invent the constellations.  We look at the clouds and imagine them to be identifiable pictures.  In the same way, we look at the scattered fragments and memories of our lives and turn them into a comprehensible whole.  My internal narrative creates order in my life.  It’s an attempt to explain who I am and why I am.  My narrative fills in gaps where memory may be elusive.  My narrative attempts to construct a good story about a decent man, who tried to make a difference.

In its written form, a memoir, I hope my story will be remembered when I am no longer, if not as an autobiography, then as a work of historical fiction.

Go Play

“Play is really the work of childhood.”   (Fred Rogers, 1928-2003)

“Imagination is more important than knowledge.”  (Albert Einstein, 1879-1955)

“We don’t stop playing because we grow old; we grow old because we stop playing.”   (George Bernard Shaw, 1856-1950) 

Last summer, I sat for an hour watching my 4-year-old granddaughter play contentedly in her garden. She drew in the dirt with sticks.  She rearranged pebbles.  She sniffed herbs.  She closely examined worms and roly-polies.  All the while, she was talking to herself, inventing stories.  For the most part, she was engrossed in her own thoughts and imagination. I was careful not to interrupt.  Only once-in-a-while, she’d look back to make sure she knew where I was, and then she would return to her play.

While she played, I thought about what I was watching.  Professionally, I’m well versed regarding the importance of children’s play.  Play is essential for normal healthy development.  It is necessary for the development of gross and fine motor skills, for the development of language, for the development of attention, for the development of social skills, for the development of affective regulation, and for the development of cognition and imagination.

When I was young, I remember my mother telling me, “Go play.”  In other words, turn off the television, and find something else to do.  I’m sure there were times when “go play” felt dismissive, my mother wanting me to get out from under foot.  Only as a parent, and now as a grandparent, do I appreciate the wisdom of those two little words, words that say so much more.  Turn off the screens.  Go outside. Go exercise.  Go use your imagination.  Go find the resources within yourself to be amused, to be entertained, to wonder, and to explore.

I don’t suspect my mother was fully aware of the developmental importance of those two words.  But, then, a good deal of parental wisdom is instinctual. Play, too, is instinctual. Nobody had to teach my granddaughter how to play in the dirt. She just knew to do it.

When my granddaughter played in the garden, she did so with no self-consciousness, and with no concern for time.  Her play was pure process, having no obvious objective. I was there in the background watching and monitoring her safety. Otherwise, the rules and limits of her play were hers to imagine and invent.

I, too, sometimes play.  I play chess and poker.  I play Wordle and other word games. I play guitar.  I play pickleball and golf (poorly).  Fishing is my play.  Writing is my play. For all the ways that I play, my play is very unlike my granddaughters, certainly far less spontaneous and far less imaginative, often regulated by conventional rules, and almost always having a measurable outcome.

The purpose of play in young children is developmental mastery.  But what is the purpose of play in a senior like myself?  Does it help me cognitively?  Does it benefit me physically?  Is it good for me emotionally?  I assume the answer to each of these questions is yes.  Therefore, when I’m sitting too long in front of a screen, or otherwise not knowing what to do with myself, I need to remember, “Go play.”

Mahomes

One year ago, after the AFC championship game, I wrote a blog called “Yips”.  The Chiefs dominated the Bengals for the first half of that game, but just before halftime, they failed to score from the 2-yard line.  The second half was all Cincinnati. The Chiefs could do nothing. During the second half of the game, Patrick Mahomes appeared to freeze, even panic.  I was concerned about this season. Could Mahomes regain his confidence or would he continue to be plagued with the yips?

This year’s AFC championship game was a rematch, Cincinnati coming into Arrowhead to play the Chiefs.  Despite Mahomes playing with a high-ankle sprain, the Chiefs completely dominated the first quarter. Yet, they scored only 2 field goals. In the second quarter they scored a touchdown on a Mahomes pass to Travis Kelce. Towards the end of the second quarter, the Chiefs intercepted a Burrow’s throw, but went 3-and-out, using only 19-seconds of the clock.  They punted and the Bengals wound up with a field goal prior to halftime.  The score at the half was 13 to 6, Chiefs. The Chiefs got the opening kickoff in the second half, but again went 3-and-out.  There was an uneasy déjà vu feeling about the game.

Cincinnati tied the game in the 3^rd quarter.  The Chiefs responded with a beautiful Mahomes pass, to once again take the lead. Later, with the lead and the ball, Mahomes inexplicably fumbled the football, which was recovered by the Bengals. Cincinnati went on to once more tie the game.

Chiefs got the ball back, but with a little over two minutes left and the score tied, they punted on 4^th-and-long to Cincinnati.  With Burrow as quarterback and plenty of time left, I was again expecting the worst, but the defense rose to the occasion. When Cincinnati had to punt with thirty seconds left in the game and no time outs for the Chiefs, I thought the game would go into overtime.  Skyy Moore fielded the kick and made a good return, putting the Chiefs near midfield with 19-seconds left.  Then, Mahomes, sore ankle and all, ran for 5 yards down the sideline and got a 15-yard roughing the passer call on top of that.  Harrison Butker kicked a 45-yard field goal with 8 seconds left and the Chiefs won. It’s on to the Super Bowl.

This game was one of the gutsiest wins I have ever seen.  Mahomes was severely hobbled by a bad ankle.  Travis Kelce played with a bad back. Three of the Chiefs starting receivers and two starting defensemen went down injured.  There were moments when Mahomes was not at his best, but he never froze or panicked.  On one good leg, he was better than Burrow.  On one good leg, he led a decimated team to victory.

Mahomes has had an MVP year.  The doubts I had a year ago are no longer.  I lived in Denver during the John Elway years, and his five Super Bowl appearances.  I lived in St. Louis when Kurt Warner emerged out of nowhere, to begin his Hall-of-Fame career.  I now live in Kansas City and can say without reservation, Patrick Mahomes is the best I’ve ever seen.  My apologies Patrick, I once had my doubts.