What is the good life worth? This is a question I’ve been pondering a great deal lately; maybe it’s because my years in the windshield are growing fewer than those in the rearview or possibly it’s the lingering personal fallout of this economic eruption which has enticed me to re-prioritize my entire world view – kicking and screaming the entire way.
When I was in high school I had one dream – to live in Lower Manhattan and work on Wall Street. The 80’s movie of the same name and an 11th grade Economics teacher wetted my appetite with visions of million dollar deals, extravagant lifestyles, and corner offices overlooking the charging bull. In the mind of a seventeen year old that was the epitome of the good life and I was going to get there. But by the time I graduated college that idea of a good life had been reduced to anywhere other than living in my parents’ basement. In my mid twenties the good life was a girlfriend, steady paycheck, a few friends, and plenty of beer. In my thirties it was a 5000 square foot house, three-car garage, two German automobiles, and a condo on the gulf. Now in my early forties I struggle to define what the good life is for me. I’ve realized, through my faith and monumental mistakes, how shortsighted and shallow those previous ideas were and am intent on approaching things differently. But even with all of the hindsight I still find myself buying into society’s one-size-fits-all definition for what the good life should be. Frustratingly, it remains one of my most significant character flaws.
The economic crisis that began in ’07 was pointed squarely in my direction. I was in the industry at the very center of the storm and by ’08 I had been thrown overboard only to resurface, thankfully, in a new business at half my former earnings and responsibility. When you’ve gotten used to living life at 100 mph slowing to 45 takes some getting used to. While I stayed clear of any fifth story ledges or bankruptcy courts I viewed this new financial reality as anything but ‘good’ and would often catch myself reminiscing on how it used to be.
One of the things I love most about my son is his passion and fearlessness. Like most rambunctious boys he relishes thrill. Once he accomplishes any feat involving the smallest amount of risk he can’t get enough of it and wants that rush again and again. I can understand how he feels. Even as I started growing accustomed to living in third gear I couldn’t forget the excitement of doing it in sixth.
To the casual observer I still live the good life, and maybe they’re right. I work from home, have free time to write, volunteer, workout, ride motorcycles, and grow myself spiritually and intellectually. And while I need for none of the basic necessities in life there are certainly things on my bucket list that are now going unchecked. My one time desire to travel the world has been put on an indefinite hold and I still don’t have that custom Ultra Glide I dream about nightly, and my nest egg isn’t as big as I had hoped. And after four years I still find myself referring to my former monetary glory as ‘the good ole days’ wishing I could get them back.
And therein lies the rub in all of this.
When you’ve gotten used to living life at 100 mph slowing to 45 takes some getting used to.
Not a chance.
For me, the good life has become vastly more than just a bank account, the car I drive, house I live in, or the exotic locales I visit and I’ve grown to understand that the good life certainly isn’t all-inclusive. Half joking recently I told the Queen I wouldn’t take another job for twice my current salary if it would mean a significant change in my work/life balance. At first blush that might sound ridiculous – double the salary -but as I thought about it the more sure I became. Because having a few extra dollars in the coffee wouldn’t be worth the price I’d pay to for it.
No, I’ll never work on Wall Street, have a high rise penthouse apartment or drive a Ferrari but as far as I’m concerned I’ve never had it so good.