May 13, 2024
Greetings from the threshold,
A couple of days ago I stood in a tiny house crowded with people, all celebrating an event whose outcome we shared for different reasons that linked us all. We were standing hip to hip with others we just met, laughing, exchanging histories, and trading a little of each other to see what might develop. It was the second-best part of my day.
Among these dozens of celebrants were friends of my son, Carson. Most, like him, were about to walk up the balmy side streets of Austin and into the place on campus set aside to hold their commencement from law school.
The energy in the room was exhilarating and fun. I realized later that we were all being carried on a current that had been whirling around these determined young people for three years and longer. It might be easier to be cynical about lawyers if you hadn’t been in that room. I will tell you that my faith in people, and in this particular profession, was refreshed just talking to Carson and his friends. I think you will find this at every threshold of this sort, where determined, optimistic people initiate a new journey. It’s irresistible. You have to have hope for humanity just seeing the look in their eyes.
As I met each of Carson’s friends, I realized they had something in common, a facet they share with my son. They are interesting people. That might be something to read past quickly, but I want to pause you here long enough to appreciate what it means.
I could point to their credentials, or the fact that they came from diverse backgrounds from all over the world. I might list the places they’ve traveled or the adventures they had. I could recount some of the funny stories that were exchanged about their time together.
But ultimately what headlines the description of ‘interesting’, is that they were interested in others. They were curious, fervently so, about the people around them. This is true of Carson, something I’ve always admired, and was grateful to be reminded of.
There are plenty of places to be reminded of what amazing people my children are. It is odd to call them ‘children’, since they all have crested three decades, but still it suits me, because like when they were five and ten and fifteen, they remind me of what matters in my life. Carson’s brothers and sister have renewed my human certification countless times.
I hesitated to write about any of this, in part because Carson won’t want the spotlight on him, but it serves us all in a way, and so he will indulge me. I was standing in the crowded kitchen, just hours before the Sunflower ceremony that would commemorate graduation, listening to his friends, and the families that had convened from all over the world to witness this day. It was an impressive group, and these are the people who surrounded my son as he worked toward his next threshold.
Carson is well traveled, well educated, kind, open to new ideas and experiences. He is compassionate, cares about people around him but also about the state of humans everywhere. He is curious, willing to experiment, able to take detours and backtrack with humility. He makes pretty good choices, including choosing interesting people to spend time with. He is surrounded by friends who are all bright, ambitious, like he is, and they have sensed that kinship and held him close. I am so happy for all of them.
I have to pause for a moment and step back eighteen months, when Carson and I took a run in the snow with my son-in-life Tim. In that time we shared something that we all saw as valuable. I wrote this; “Carson put it simply: take the most interesting choice.”
I tried to summarize the conversation from that run; “Choose what is challenging, be uncomfortable, be surprised, be inconvenienced. Choose what will probably cause you to learn something new. Choose what will force you to adapt, to think on the fly, to make mistakes. Choose what is complicated. Choose the strange environment, the people you don’t know, the thing you are afraid of, the mysterious, the unusual. Choose the new place, choose the stranger, choose to spend time with the friend who makes the choices you admire.”
Over a year later, I saw this was not idle philosophizing, but that Carson had been living that life. It made him an interesting person. It drew him to interesting people. It reminded me of that possibility for all of us.
I stood with thousands of cheering people and watched Carson walk across the stage, take his sunflower and make his way into the future. The best part of my day was when I saw him wipe the tears from his eyes, a man of passion, a person both accomplished and humble, interesting and interested, moved by the love his friends, and by his own love of them. It was a beautiful symbol of his choices, one I will hold close for years to come.
Hope this finds you at today’s threshold,
David
Copyright © 2024 David Smith
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