One Spring afternoon while seated in the last row of Sister Marie’s history class, I began to make a list. It was a list of things I wanted to do before I died. It might seem unusual for a 17-year-old schoolboy to feel the pressure of his mortality, but those were dangerous times. War. Assassinations. Riots. I thought if I survived until my 30th birthday, I should be able to look back and know I didn’t waste my days.
The list was all that you would expect of a teenage boy – or at least a teenage boy at the time. I wanted to play in a rock n’ roll band, grow a beard, visit London, and swim in all seven oceans. I imagined myself a published author, a marathon runner, and an expert in French wine. I wanted to play roulette while wearing a tuxedo, smoke cigarettes, and own a yellow lab named Moon. And of course, I wanted to engage in a never-ending, passionate love affair.
The list consisted of about fifty items. Some as simple as sailing on an ocean liner. Others as vague and fanciful as ‘performing a heroic act’. In some ways the list was charmingly innocent. It doesn’t consider the hard work or disappointment that real accomplishment demands. Still, I’m surprised by how much I have achieved – even if by accident rather than design. But more importantly, it has been the experiences I couldn’t have foreseen that has made life truly perplexing, startling, and worthwhile.
I suppose this is real purpose of “Life After 17.” It is an opportunity for us to share a little of what we’ve learned. And I hope you, the reader, regardless of your age, share what you’ve learn with all of us.
So let’s begin…
Toby Scott Mays
