Ten years ago I sat where I am now smoking menthols. The bushes were small enough I could see the alley down behind them. The pallet on the left was completely blue. The neighbor’s little dog was constantly barking. I didn’t wear glasses. I had a different job, different friends, different truck.
In the immortal words of Mr. Carlson, “what would be the point of living if we didn’t let life change us?”
Well, what we got here is a phone call I had with my good friend Jimi, recorded earlier in the month. I mention or quote him from time to time on my blog and in my podcast. And he’s been a good friend for a close to three decades.
I met Jimi in the early 90s in Iowa when I first got sober. Stayed friends with him in the 2000s while I relapsed in Oregon. And then of course he was there after I sobered up again in Illinois in the early 2010s.
Jimi’s a saint and a scholar. He’s the big brother I never had. He’s made me think and laugh and let me in on the life secret, “everything is going to be okay.” Because… “the best is yet to come.”
So my thought going into the phone call was that it would be a test run recording, check audio levels, and see how well we both did under the mic.
Yesterday I was reading in a book the therapist recommended that certain types of people have a preference for reflecting deeply on experiences and that reflection is almost more valuable than the original experience.
And as I was reviewing this today I thought to myself “Yes! I enjoy doing certain things just so I can think about them later.“