Life Lessons, in Three Acts
It's surprising where, and when, you can learn important lessons
It was sometime in the early 2000s. My wife and I, who usually took one good vacation a year and often stayed at a high class Disney resort, this time decided to spend time at Universal Studios. We took advantage of an offer that gave us a type of “VIP” fast-track access to rides if we stayed at one of their nice hotels, which we did.
At the time, the biggest new ride was “Spider-Man.” This used holograms and special effects to create an exciting battle between Spidey and many of his more famous villains, including Electro and Dr. Octopus. When you entered the ride, you were to don special 3D glasses that enabled you to see the visual effects.
Mrs LS and I were so proud of ourselves that we had the “fast track” passes that we ebulliently walked past the peons who were not staying at the luxurious hotel. We briskly walked to the very front of a long lone, beaming at our cleverness and wisdom.
We jumped into the car. As the ride started, something wasn’t right. We couldn’t see anything. Then we realized everyone else was wearing the 3d glasses.
We had been so puffed up with our importance that we forgot the simple requirement of grabbing a pair of glasses from the bin. (Of course, post China Virus, that would probably be prohibited, though I haven’t been back). Anyway, sufficiently chastised, we walked back around—-this time humbly—-and went to the front of the line again. With glasses.
The second life lesson came when I was ready to retire. As a history professor—-contrasted with someone in the Business School or Engineering or Law—-I nevertheless made pretty good money. Because of my seniority, I also had first dibs on teaching summer school, which in just 6 weeks added 12% on top of my regular pay. Around 2015 my wife and I began discussing moving to Arizona from Ohio. We had always planned to retire in Arizona. But was I ready to retire? I could easily have still taught at a high level for five or even seven more years. Did I want to? I would have made a lot of money.
e chose to leave as of the end of the 2016 term, and we literally began packing and organizing for the move a year earlier. We searched for a house while on a weekend trip to Arizona, twice. Our first efforts yielded nothing. On the second trip, we had either five or six houses on the list (I can’t recall). Every one we looked at was not acceptable for one reason or another. Depressed and disillusioned, we came to the final house. That was it! It was 3,200 sq. ft., had a pool, 3-car garage, backed up to nothing so there was no noise, and had five bedrooms. Moreover, the price was exactly what we wanted—-and we even negotiated that down. I carried two mortgages for about six months, then we sold our house in Ohio.
Not only did we get a fantastic price for a great house, but within a couple of years, interest rates fell and I was able to refinance at a mere 2.9%!!
We look back at that decision, at the time wondering if I had left “too much money on the table” in Ohio by leaving early, only to see mortgage interest rates up to the low 7% range today! Whatever I missed in salary those years, I more than made up for in the value of our house. Sometimes you just have to leave the money on the table.
Finally, the last lesson came from my band days when we were playing Flagstaff, Arizona and it was Halloween. The club had a big, 6’ tall stage. On each side of the stage we had our massive “Voice of God” speakers, each about 6’ high and 3’ wide. No one could see, but behind the speakers we threw all our packing materials, including cases but a lot of blankets and padding. It wouldn’t hurt to jump into that pile.
Our guitarist, Chuck, had a (bad?) habit of breaking into Jimi Hendrix’s version of the “Star Spangled Banner” when it suited him. He did it really well. But it meant a break for everyone else, who left the stage. I, trapped behind my big drum kit, had to stay and “rata-a-tat-tat” in the background for Chuck.
On that particular night he was really carried away, gyrating with his guitar sexually against the giant Marshall stack of amplifiers. Suddenly he looked at me in horror and yelled, "I knocked a bunch of my frets off! What do I do?” I said, “Well, they like it if you break stuff. Break something.”
So he lifted his guitar, screaming with feedback like a sick banshee, above his head. The crowd gathered closer, going crazy. He slammed the (now-useless) guitar down on the stage. It moaned like an electrified dead cat. He turned to me again: “What now???”
I said, “Break something else.” He lifted the guitar up again, and hurled it offstage. Now it was feeding back, unseen, behind the Voice of God, like a galactic sick elephant. Chuck looked at me again. I gave him the “Keep going” sign with my hand.
He walked over to the twin Marshall stack. Each amp cabinet was about 4’ by 3’ and heavy. But Chuck was a big boy—-6’ and well over 250, and strong. He hoisted the amp up, posed for the crowd, and hurled it off stage.
He failed to realize the cord was wrapped around his leg.
Ever see the “Roadrunner” cartoons where the Roadrunner’s body disappears but his head is still there?
In a moment Chuck shot off the stage and, “Star Spangled Banner” over, I exited myself. Life Lesson? Be absolutely sure of your footing at all times.
Larry Schweikart
Rock drummer, Film maker,NYTimes #1 bestselling author
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