I admit that sometimes, when entering social situations (especially with retired men) I feel a tinge of dread.
I already know generally what I’m going to hear: a cacophony of stories from their workdays, filled with victories, successes, and experiences that reinforce their lofty positions as lawyers, doctors, executives, and business owners.
I admit, these monologues of past greatness leave me beyond bored and desperate to find someone whose train has left the track.
I admit, I don’t care about your previous title.
I admit, I don’t care about your war stories.
I admit, I might be interested if the stories were relevant to who you are today.
I admit, I don’t care who you WERE…but I really care about who you are becoming now and what you learned and how you overcame difficulties. I care about what and who you value and why. I care about how you see the future.
I wonder what penance I’d have to make for all my confessions if I were Catholic.
The past is relevant as a basis of learning and growth, of understanding how you arrived here and now and not a place to remain for long…there’s nothing there but memories.
