The Proud Moments of Grownups

Glory days, well they'll pass you by, 

Glory days, in the wink of a young girl's eye,

Glory days, glory days...

Yeah, just sitting back trying to recapture

A little of the glory of, well time slips away 

And leaves you with nothing mister, but

Boring stories of glory days.

-- "Glory Days," Bruce Springsteen

When we're young, it seems that moments of pride are in abundance.  Our first A on a school assignment. Our first real hit in baseball.  A trophy that we won.  A ribbon for being a good citizen.  A prize that we got for doing something good.

Why can't adulthood be like that?

My little league baseball card. 

I started thinking about this earlier this summer as I was out doing yard work. For the several years we have owned our house, I have watched weeds grow behind our shed to such an extent that they were taller than Anna.  They were starting to look like mini-trees.

And I decided I'd had enough.

One weekend day, I decided that, whatever it took, I'd get rid of those damn things.

And boy, did it take a lot. I had to use a weed whacker, large clippers, a rake with metal prongs, my bare hands, and finally, when they got down to a manageable enough size, the lawnmower.  I felt a strange sense of power, especially as I gripped the weed whacker, saying out loud over the BUZZZZZZZ sound, "Die, weeds, die! Bwahahahaha!"

When it was over several hours later, I caught my breath and then photographed my handiwork. I was so proud of myself because hardly anything remained where, just hours before, tall weeds had brushed against my knees.

Take no prisoners!!

I even posted my picture to Facebook.  But then I thought, why the heck am I so ridiculously proud of getting rid of those weeds?  Why is this some kind of accomplishment?

And the only answer I came up with is that this is what we adults have to be proud of.  Yep. These are our moments of pride, people.  Our glory days.

We grownups work hard and earn our paychecks and raise our families, and that's just life.  There's no prize for that.  No trophies for participation, no ribbons for being good people, no award certificates...at least, not most of the time.  Sometimes all we get is a pat on the back, if that.

And slowly, we learn that the reward for that hard work is the work itself.  When we please our bosses at work, when our kids do something that shows us that the lessons we try to impart may actually be sinking in, when we are able to afford to make a long desired home repair, when we get our yard looking neat and trim....those are our grown-up rewards.

Once, when I was a teenager, I remember feeling annoyed that my mother was upset with me about something, I can't recall what.  I do recall asking her what the problem was, noting that I got straight As and won awards for music and didn't drink or do drugs and stayed out of trouble.  And her reply stuck with me:  "You don't get a medal for that.  That's just what you're supposed to do."

At the time, I thought that was a terrible thing to say.  After all, some kids I knew did drink and party.  They didn't excel academically.  They were always in the principal's office. And I wasn't.  Why didn't that count? What was the point of doing those things if I didn't get some kind of credit for them?

I suppose, looking back, that those successes themselves were supposed to be the rewards.

As it turns out, she was just preparing me for one of those truths that adulthood had in store for me.  People won't always be there to applaud you for doing the right thing.  The reward is the experience itself, and the internal knowledge that you did a good job.

Perhaps that's why killing weeds seemed like such a big deal.  It's an accomplishment you can see.  People say, "Wow, that looks great!" and you beam.

At first, I thought it was just amusing, but it's really been interesting to reflect on how the appearance of success changes as we age. And how our standards change, too. We go from "Yes, I got first place in that contest!" to "Yes, I paid that bill this month!"  To be sure, it's still an accomplishment.  It's still a feeling of pride, and maybe relief too.  But it comes from within rather than without. It happens whether we are recognized for it or not.  And, as satisfying as that can be....it's just not quite as exciting as it used to be.

So, for me, then I think the focus shifts to my child.  It's sort of like Christmas morning. It doesn't matter to me what gifts I get, or if I even get gifts at all.  What matters is my child's enjoyment of the moment.  Similarly, my life is no longer just about my successes.  In a sense, our children themselves are our greatest successes.

Just starting out!

I try to praise Anna for being a good person.  I take notice and compliment her when she makes good choices, when she excels at an activity, when she is kind to someone. I know from experience that kids need to feel that sense of pride. They need to experience that recognition and the joy of doing an awesome job at something. Because one day, that awesome job might just be eradicating weeds.

Thankfully, there's lots of time before that!