I once had a love of mine tell me that I led a big life, one that she could never see herself being a part of because her life was relatively small, and she liked it that way.
I didn’t really understand what that meant at the time. After all, it’s hard if not impossible to step out of your own life and see it from afar, as if being a spectator. To me, it was just life, one that offered adventure, occasionally heartbreak, random successes and classic crashes. It was just life, my life.
It wasn’t until Kat and I were talking a few nights ago that it rang true like a clarion bell, and in the most unexpected way.
We love to talk about stuff, which is a good thing. It hasn’t always been a part of my life, talking to the one I loved. At various times I seemed to have a penchant for picking those who were not long on conversation. Oh sure, they had things to say to me, but they were often caustic, judgmental and more than a little degrading.
Over a glass or two of wine, the subject of my life came up. It actually came up because it was the 42nd anniversary of the death of my brother a couple weeks ago, something you never truly get over, particularly when he was also your childhood hero.
At only 24 years of age, Jon’s life came to an unexpected end. Adventurous to the end, it was due to a parachuting accident in which he drowned after being blown off course.
I was only 14. As I recounted some of Jon’s famous adventures, parallels began to appear in our two lives. I love to tell Jon stories, largely because he lived such a large life in such a short time. Yes, there’s a bit of idealizing in my mind where he is concerned, but others have told equally amazing stories about his brief exploits, from swinging on a chandelier in an Issaquah tavern in a nod to Errol Flynn as Robin Hood to deciding one night that he and his band should have their photo taken at Hollywood and Vine. Right then and there they drove to L.A. After an 18 hour drive, he got the photo he wanted. They then drove right back to Seattle.
It was Kat who connected the dots, something that had totally escaped me. I seem to have unwittingly or perhaps subconsciously continued his journey in life, choosing to have that big life that was too big for someone else to latch onto.
My life took its adventurous turn when I was 24. I joined the Seafair Pirates, my E-ticket to fun and adventure. I later learned that Jon had been asked to join, shortly before he died.
Unwittingly, I seemed to have picked up where he left off. It wasn’t something I ever thought about, not until Kat pointed out the continuity. I was astounded, in part because I had never made this what-is-now an obvious connection and in part because I had no idea that I had continued a journey that had been disrupted by an accident.
I really have lived an amazing life so far. When I look back at the list of accomplishments — the good, the bad and the ugly — I have really lived a big life these last 56 years. As I write this, I think back to all the things I’ve done – traveling to distant lands as a pirate, dancing with a Miss Universe contestant, founding a couple nonprofits, bringing tears to sailors’ eyes aboard a British warship, piloting a tall ship, running my own business, performing a play I wrote with a full orchestra backing it, being named Man of the Year in West Seattle, and jumping out of a plane a time or two – and a smile breaks out on my face.
I have been one lucky guy so far, if for no other reason than a friend of mine noting (after reading my book), that I am neither dead or nor in jail for my many exploits.
I should have been a time or two. Dead or in jail. I’ve done plenty of things that probably deserved either outcome, but for reasons unknown to me, I have pulled a rabbit or two out of my bag of tricks just when I needed them.
I can’t help but wonder if I’ve had some help in this regard. I do believe I have a guardian angel. My faith was solidified on my drive back from Monterey to San Francisco some years ago. Somewhere around Candlestick Park I blacked out from a combination of too much wine and too much excitement. I don’t remember the rest of the trip up 101. I came to as I was on the exit ramp, the right one, heading directly to my hotel.
To this day I know someone else was doing the driving, for I awoke driving perfectly down the ramp, at the correct speed, in the right lane to turn, all without my participation.
Say what you will, that I was on autopilot or whatever. But I was there. I know that I should have by all rights either been dead or in jail that night. Instead, I was in the arms of someone else’s skill and grace, for against all odds, I was still alive.
I have a feeling it was Jon. I’ve felt him there in my life a few other times, usually when I was in most need of some assistance from someone greater than myself. I guess he’s kind of enjoyed my many exploits, and it would be just like him to want to see them continue for a long time, as he can enjoy the love, laughter, fun and even the heartbreak vicariously while he’s shaking up those Pearly Gates, looking for the nearest chandelier to swing from, if for no other reason than to see if he would get 86’d from Heaven, The Bar.
In the Emerald City, thanking my lucky stars that I can still cash most of those checks I continue to write,
– Robb