What I've Learned in 4.5 Decades of Living.

A reflection on being decisively middle-aged

Nov 2, 2022

Reflections on 45 Years

1. On Tommy Gean

On October 25, I turned forty-five years old, which is an unfathomable number. Forty-five rotations around the sun. 180 seasonal changes. 540 months. 16,436.25 days if you account for leap year.

On my birthday, I disappear, go off grid, find time to read and contemplate and play guitar and do whatever it is I want to do. In these yearly contemplations, history seems to haunt. This year, it was no different. Tommy Gean—a good southern lawyer—came haunting.

In my teenage years, I figured Tommy Gean was as successful as he was Calvinist, which is to say all the way. He never did a thing a halfway, and so, when it came time for him to teach our junior-high Sunday School class the 5 Sacred Points of Calvinism, he T.U.L.I.P.’d us all the way up.* We memorized those points as a class, took notes on the supporting verses, and every now and again, we discussed the finer nuances of the theology over maple bars and Hiland’s finest chocolate milk at Grand Bakery.

Tommy was fond of summer seersucker, which was a bit of an occupational hazard. Seersucker said something about you back in those days—you were a gentleman, just refined enough without being pinstripe stiff. He always smiled. His River Valley drawl was a throwback to dustier days. He carried an air about him, one that intimated, “I win, but that doesn’t mean you lose.” This is the thing I remember about him most, though I can’t say exactly why.

Tommy went on to be a United States Attorney for the Western District of Arkansas, which is a whole ordeal because it requires a pristine tax record, a sparkly reputation for ethicality, and presidential appointment. To say Tommy kicked ass in that role would be an understatement—just ask his coworker Wendy Johnson, now my law partner—and when his time at the U.S. Attorney’s office was over, he leveled up. He took a job at a Fortune 1 company and is now a “Global Anti-Corruption and Ethics Officer,” which is as big of a deal as it sounds.

My old Sunday school teacher has moved from one stage to a slightly larger stage throughout his entire career, and now, he’s found himself on one of the world’s largest stages. But even when I was in junior high, I could see his trajectory. He was, after all, what I imagined as the personification of success.

On my birthday, I thought back to those junior high years, the years of learning Calvinism over long johns and Hiland’s finest. While contemplating the rise of Tommy Gean, it struck me—he couldn’t have been any more than 30 when he was expounding on the doctrine of Christian election, and yet, I imagined him as much older because he always seemed to have it all together. I imagined he was born that way, as if he came headfirst into the world wearing seersucker, a perfect part in his hair, and crying pristine closing arguments in a laconic southern drawl.

I’m a skilled enough storyteller to know that this is the place where I should share the twist. You’re expecting it, aren’t you? The downfall of Tommy Gean. His fall from grace. But that’s not at the twist to the story. In fact, maybe there’s no twist at all. All I know is that from what little I know about his life, this very good attorney and incredibly decent human has done the very best he could to make the next right decision in his day-to-day living.

I’ve operated under the notion that guys like Tommy have a road map, like they know exactly what they’re doing. But do they? Doubtful. My guess is that he made the best decisions he could along the way, but that on more than one occasion, he struggled with things like imposter syndrome or feeling like fraud or taking best guesses and hoping for the best or simply just making it up as he went along. If Vegas took bets on the inner workings of Tommy Gean, I’d put $1,000.00 on the fact that he felt and did all of these these things not because he’s incompetent, but precisely because he’s so very competent. It’s the competent people who figure out how to negotiate these things still succeed. At least, that’s what forty-five years of living has taught me from the many men I know just like Tommy.

*T.U.L.I.P. is an acronym of Calvinist doctrine standing for Total Depravity, Unconditional Election, Limited Atonement, Irresistible Grace, and Perseverance of the Saints.

2. On Sealy Yates

On my birthday, Sealy Yates—another very good attorney—called. I answered, and before I could get any pleasantry out, the septuagenarian broke out into a gravely rendition of “Happy Birthday to You.” His is no southern drawl. It’s the California vibe, the kind that makes him sound twenty years younger than the rest of his septuagenarian cohort.

Our conversation meandered, as it normally does, but then he shared a beautiful truth with me, one that I will not share with you because it’s a matter between the two of us. Here are the shades, though: He’s lived well into his seventies, and still, he’s taking best guesses; still, he feels some level of imposter syndrome; still, he makes some things up as he goes along. I recognized those shades as we talked about everything under the sun—business, relationships, faith, love.

He did not say this, but here’s what I understood as we hung up the phone: By taking best guesses, by making some things up as you go, you sometimes fall into truth or even something like deep wisdom; sometimes you even find God. This was no small encouragement because at forty-five, I’m taking best guesses more often than not. I’m making things up even on my best days. And I hope, somehow, it’s helping me stumble toward something deep wisdom, something like God.

That is my birthday confession.

3. The Telecaster

I bought a guitar for my birthday, a mint-colored Fender Telecaster with pickups that are hot as fire. I love her already, and this is helped by the fact that I’ve loved Teles for over thirty years.

I’ve played guitar since I was fifteen. For having played so many years, I don’t know too many songs. Sure, I know all the church songs, hymns and modern tunes alike. But if you didn’t give me any sheet music and asked me to play anything other than Petty’s “Free Fallin’” or Poison’s “Every Rose Has its Thorn,” I’d have to work my way through it by ear, taking a few best guesses informed by my thirty-plus years of playing. I’d get the right chord more often than not, but sometimes, I’d have to chord hunt because I’m no guitar god.

I love guitar precisely because it’s a creative exercise, an opportunity to make things up as I go. I string chords together, run scales haphazardly, and sing whatever comes to mind because the stakes are relatively low. (My career does not hinge on my guitar ability.) Sure, this means there are some gaps in my ability, but I’ve also learned a lot that way. I’ve learned how to improvise with other musicians by taking educated guesses, and on more than one occasion, a bad guess has led to a pretty good piece of improvisation. Even a wrong decision is an opportunity for an interesting outcomes, at least in the musical world.

This is not to say there’s no room for developing deep expertise, for doing the work it takes to understand exactly what you’re making up and why. What it means, though, is that it’s okay if you feel a little imposter syndrome or you feel like you’re spending most of your day improving life. It’s not a cause for anxiety because, truth be told, we’re all doing it. And sometimes, that improvisation leads to beautiful things opportunity, love, and joy.

These are my best guesses from forty-five years of living.

A Few Updates

Amber and I just finished our first collaborative book together, The Deep Down Things: Practices for Growing Hope in Times of Despair. ARE YOU AS EXCITED AS WE ARE? There is no preorder link yet, but if you’d like to keep in the loop on all the Deep Down Things, please leave a comment and let me know.

The Examined Life