Introduction

“It’s never too late to make a first impression.”

“It’s never too late to make a good first impression.”

Really? Sometime around 1968 or 1969, I was invited by Nancy Waymire to go to a party at the country club. This was junior high, and I’d never set foot in a country club or any kind of club for that matter, except maybe the Mickey Mouse club, and that was figuratively. So, it was a pretty big deal. I wanted to look very cool, to impress the beautiful Nancy, and so my mom and I went shopping and picked out this fabulous paisley shirt to wear – paisley being the rage du jour . Couldn’t wait to get to the party.

I walked up the stairs to the CC, opened the door, and all the young men were in coats and ties.

I, in my paisley shirt. In a country club. With a girl I wanted to kiss – my first- by the end of the night. In fact, my first “date” ever, though her folks were driving. Lookin’ like a rube. Stuck for the whole night.

It was too late to make a first impression brothers and sisters. It had been made. Indelibly.

“It’s never too late to make a first impression.” I don’t even understand what these platitudes mean. Of course it can be too late to make a first impression, and especially a good one. I’ve made dozens, maybe thousands of bad first impressions, I’m sure. And you know what, it’s too late – the time has passed, buh bye, ta ta, au revoir, I’ll see you in the mirror – to make any of those first impressions again.

I know, it’s a play on words. The intent is to let us know that our appearance is critically important for the next first impression, whether it be in the foyer of our building or when meeting a prospective employer.

But I want to be straight up with you. Appearance is of little importance to me these days, half way through my seventh decade (that’s 65 years, BTW, not 75). Maybe that’s because I’ve worn too many paisley shirts in my day trying to make good first impressions, knowing now that I’m just me and not a country club guy at all. Never will be. Don't want to be.

I’ve heard both these phrases and was thinking about them this morning as my task today is to write introductions to these first five videos. It’s 5:50 a.m. – I’ve been here a while already - and I am sitting in front of a computer monitor that needs some Windex, with two boxes of some kind of facial tissue surrounding me because I have a virus (all right, it’s just a cold but it feels like one of those deadly viruses – why not viri ? – that some person in a white coat with a trusty helper or two is trying to save the world from in yet another boring iteration of pandemic movies).

You know the set-up – Meg Ryan meeting Tom Hanks in Who’s Got Mail. And here I am meeting you, probably for the first time. Hand sanitizer at the ready.

I believe that there is more to life than appearance, that consumerism is eating away at what is really important in our lives, and that “keeping up” with everyone else is an impossible and worthless task. I believe in human-caused global warming and that if we don’t get off our collective rear ends right now it will result in the extinction of what we consider to be most beautiful and life-giving on our planet.

I am committed to learning how to live the rest of my life more deeply and more simply, having spent way too much time not doing that.

I’ve got nothing to sell here, not even myself. If this kind of conversation appeals to you I’d love you to join me in exploring profound living. If one person reads my essays and finds something worth thinking about, that’s enough for me. If no one does, that’s OK too. Simply writing ideas down is a joy and an opportunity for me to learn by writing. Maybe one day I’ll put some of these essays, if they turn out to be any good, together into a book. That sounds like it could be a good use of time. I enjoyed making these videos too. More of that would be fun.

Who knows where this profound living idea might lead. It's a lifetime pass. An open ticket. Destination(s) unknown.

That’s me, for starters. It’s too late to make another first impression with you, the die is cast.

Oh, and I can have a very irreverent sense of humor, which I inherited from my dad.

Let’s kick around some ideas together, and try to have a little fun doing it.