Life is too short
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I am 23 years old, so I think I’m a little too young to give insights on life.
But I’m going to do it anyway because, let’s be honest, would you expect anything less from me?
So here’s my piece: Do not, under any circumstances, take life too seriously. I used to, but now I don’t, and I’m way happier for it.
As my mother says, “Life is too short.”
As comedian and my semi-idol Louis CK says, “Life is too short to be a (jerk).”
As Socrates might have profoundly noted with a wave of his hand, “Life.”
All these great thinkers and accomplished individuals are quite correct. Life is finite and has an ever-encroaching expiration date. If you can understand that and be OK with the fact that you won’t live forever, you won’t waste your life.
It sounds simple, but it’s actually harder than corporate income tax law. Humans are not very good at thinking long-term, and it’s even harder to do in today’s world, what with work to do, bills to pay and reality TV shows to watch.
It’s a harsh truth, really. Birth and death are the only two things every human has in common. The first, birth, is beautiful. My friend’s mom in high school was a nurse in a maternity ward, delivering babies several times a day. For her, it was the most rewarding job in the world.
All day, every day, she helped bring new life into the world. I doubt many people would say that was a poor vocational choice.
The second, death, seems taboo. I think that’s unfortunate. Don’t misunderstand; I don’t have a death wish. I just understand and accept a reality which it seems many people don’t — my time here is borrowed, and that’s OK.
I’m sure the process for getting to that truth is different for everyone, but for me it happened in college when I met Dr. Arthur Doederlein.
I was taking an introduction to communications class in Summer 2011. Five minutes late, Dr. Doederlein entered the classroom in a wheelchair. His left leg was gone beneath the knee. He wore shorts and took great care to not notice us noticing his missing leg.
“Good morning, class!” he said cheerfully. “My name is Dr. D. I’ve been an instructor at this university for more than 40 years, and there is a strong possibility that I’ll die before the final exam.”
We laughed nervously when he said that. Imagine a college professor announcing his impending death on the first day of class.
“This is my first semester back in over a year,” he continued. “I’m still recovering from heart, lung and liver surgery. I’ve had cancer twice and I’m an aging, overweight diabetic. I’ve lost my left leg and most of my right foot to diabetes.
“The chemotherapy took my hair and what was left of my good looks,” he chuckled. “I suffer from seizures because they put me on a new medication and I’m not used to it yet. I’m also nearly blind and need someone to help me to and from class each day, preferably a young woman.”
“Well,” I remember thinking, “can’t blame a guy who looks like he does for trying.”
“Now, let me assure you of a few things before we begin. First, if I should die, your grades will be fine. Dr. H knows how I teach this class, and he’s a very capable instructor. He will fill in and I’ve already discussed it with the university. Second, if I die, it’s OK. No human in history has ever escaped the eventuality of death.”
You’ve never heard silence like I heard in that moment. It wasn’t a stunned, reverent or sad silence — it was fear. In the back of your mind, you know you’ll die someday, but you don’t think about it. How could you? How could you go through life with that constant, unwavering whisper just behind your ear? We’d all managed to get this far in life by pushing that thought out of our heads; why not continue to do exactly that?
And then Dr. D said something I still remember to this day, verbatim.
“If I have one goal for this class, it’s to force you to realize that someday, you will die. My reason for telling you what, no doubt, no other person in your life has told you is this: if you are able to accept this truth, the only truth which is certain, your life will be beautiful from this day on. You will understand that your days are numbered. This is the greatest truth I can teach you, and once you realize that all life is finite, two things will happen. First, you will no longer fear death. You won’t even think of it as that big a deal.
“Second, you will be free to pursue exactly and only what you want in this life, and you will never be happier. You will realize that every second of every day is a blessing, a gift that cannot be relived. You get no do-overs, so there is no reason you should not try to live as much as possible. Should I succeed in convincing you of that, you won’t be afraid to die and you won’t be afraid to live.”
After writing this column, I Googled Dr. D’s name to make sure I’d spelled it correctly. The first result was his obituary, dated Aug. 27, 2012.
I would by lying if I said knowing he’d died didn’t make me sad ... it does. I’m sad because I know what a great man the world lost. However, that sadness is replaced with joy when I think about the thousands of students he affected during a 40-year teaching career. I hope he gave each and every one of them that speech, and I know he lived it every day of his life.
His was a life well-lived.
