What Drives Ambition?

My son asked me ‘the question’ about ten years ago and I had no definitive answer for him. Turns out, I’m no further ahead with the answer now than I was back then. As involved, invested and caring parents, both Brian and Melanie want their children to succeed. Hence, the question from Brian: “Dad, how do you teach someone ambition?” caught me off guard and churned up a lot of pondering on my part.

The good news is that I ‘ve had ten years to wrestle with that ‘question for the ages.’ Over that time, there have been a number of clues that do bring a little more clarity to the issue. Of course, I have my own theories. They’re pretty deeply entrenched ideas of how and why some folks become motivated and others spend most of their lives just floating along. So, where does motivation come from? Anyplace and everyplace is one simple answer that holds a lot of truth to it.

This whole concept of ambition and motivation is a bit of an obsession with me. I wasn’t cognizant of that fact until I got into writing on a full time basis. The theme of ‘being hungry’ has permeated a lot of my writing. The desire for more, for something else, something better has crept into several of my books; especially “Love in the A Shau” and “The Debris Trilogy.” Both novels feature hungry young men determined to make a success of themselves. It’s a theme I can personally relate to and a vision quest I don’t ever see ever ending.

Let’s face it. We’re only here on earth for a brief period of time. Why wouldn’t we want to make the very most out of every minute of our existence? Why wouldn’t we want to do something with our lives that was worthwhile, satisfying and hopefully of benefit to others? And more importantly, why wouldn’t we want the same for our own children and grandchildren?

Sports is one area where a lot of kids, my grandkids included, learn about the basics of life; what’s fair and not fair. How hard work can ‘sometimes’ pay off and other times not help the final cause. But it does reaffirm the benefit of hard work and the desire to succeed.

Over the last ten years, each of my grandchildren have also found areas of interest outside of the sporting arena. Each of these ancillary ventures was initiated by the kids themselves. Whether it be band, NHS, Deca, Speech, Languages, Theater, Music, etc. Fortunately, these extracurricular activities were self-directed and discovered sans parents or grandparents prodding. The universal lesson learned here was simple enough: Anything worth doing is going to require some kind of sacrifice.

Nothing comes easy…at least for most of us. When you’re born at the bottom then anything above that looks pretty good. When you have nothing growing up then you don’t long for those vapid pleasures that don’t amount to a hill of beans in the overall scheme of living. Growing up with the basics gives one a real appreciation for the simpler things of life.

That doesn’t mean you don’t want more. It simply means you appreciate the basic values of your own existence and can realistically grasp the intrinsic appeal of other things beyond your reach. There is value in being raised with a focus on the fundamentals of living and a scarcity of those extraneous distractions of wealth.

It’s not always easy being born rich. The three generation theory has been around for a long time. Among other monikers, it’s been called shirtsleeves to shirtsleeves in three generations.

Based on fact and some fiction, the theory simply asserts that most businesses don’t survive beyond the third generation of owners. Grandpa starts the business. His son takes over and continues for a time. But by the time a third generation is ready to step up to the plate, the discipline and hunger for success have been muted and gutted for all intents and purposes.

And it’s hardly unique to this country. In China, it’s called rice paddy to rice paddy. In Italy, it’s called cobbler to cobbler. In Ireland, it’s called clogs to clogs.

Being born poor and hungry can be a strong motivator for the taste of success. But what if your kids aren’t growing up poor like you were? What if they’ve had a lot of advantages simply because that’s what their parents (your own kids) want them to have? Do we deny them opportunities to travel, read a lot, go to a good school or have other life experiences we could never dream of when we were growing up? I think not.

Inherent in my personality is a deep-seated prejudice about giving kids ‘everything’ simply because their parents can afford it. I think there are distinct disadvantages of being raised a rich environment. And we all know who ‘they’ are. Back in high school, they were all gathered around the ‘most popular’ table in the cafeteria. Their descendants are still there today.

So, where’s the balance between giving your kids or grandkids every opportunity you can to enrich their lives and still raise them as responsible, respectable and appreciative citizens of the world?

I certainly don’t have all the answers as to how to motivate young people nowadays especially my own grandchildren. The best advice I could probably give my own kids is to lead by example. To reward their own children’s efforts and not necessarily their success. And to remind their kids that practice makes for opportunities.

I didn’t become a writer in my later years because I wanted to…or had nothing else to do. Writing is my favored/flavored addiction just as running was for forty-seven of my more energetic years. What I try to explain to well-meaning folks who ask ‘why do it?’ is that I have no choice. It isn’t something that I can play with occasionally when the mood strikes. It is, at its deepest level, something that I have to do.

The writer in me has to get involved in my character’s lives. I have to travel back out west occasionally and I have to muddle around the under-belly of Palm Springs when the time comes. I have to do what I do because I was born hungry and still am today. I hope to stay hungry for the rest of my life.

In past blogs I’ve commented that I want my grandchildren to ‘be hungry.’ Thus far, I think they’re developing a pretty healthy appetite for more. Hopefully, at some point in their young lives, they’ll come to understand that old adage as I did a long time ago. The harder they work, the luckier they might become.

Longevity

In addition to adventure tourism, one of the newest shade covers offered to an anxious public are longevity tours. It’s a mixture of ‘out of your comfort zone’ tourism with a hint of healthy living tips incorporated into the whole expensive package.

It’s one of the newest industries to raise its capitalistic head in the never-ending search for eternal life. That is, the illusion that they (whoever is advertising at the moment) have finally found Valhalla (Viking heaven), the Fountain of Youth (sorry, Ponce De Leon) and/or some magic elixir that assures each of us that ‘we really can get out of this place alive!’

From a daily dose (on BusinessInsider.com) of some middle-aged male hawking longevity caplets to snippets on my Facebook feed, I’m inundated on almost a daily basis with folks who have found the secret to life everlasting. And for only a small amount of money, they’ve got a pill, liquid, AI app, workshop or class that can help you reach that goal too.

It’s an industry that feeds upon itself and never goes out of fashion. News outlets love ‘this stuff’ because it grabs eyeballs minus the gray matter that ought to accompany it. Like the new weight-loss drugs that promise weight loss without the bother of diet and exercise, these old-fashion magic elixirs promise results without any effort. All you need is lots of money and leave your brains at the door.

Dr. Eric Topol, in his heavily-researched book ‘Super Agers’ encapsulates the newest Oklahoma Land Rush of Longevity. In it, he writes:

“There are eight hundred longevity clinics in the United States – even at the prestigious Mayo Clinic. Some charge up to $50,000 per week. There are longevity vacations with intravenous drips; “Rejuvenation Olympics”, a Fountain Life “country club for precision diagnostics”, fitness centers with intravenous antiaging drips; an X-Prize awarding over $100 million to restore at least a decade’s worth of muscle, brain and immune function in older adults; and stem cell clinics for longevity.”

“Then there are the many hundreds of companies developing drugs or interventions to promote lifespan or selling biomarkers to track one’s biological age….. Dr. Topol continues: “I am reminded of a line by Venki Ramakrishnan in ‘Why We Die’: “When they were young, they wanted to be rich, and now that they’re rich, they want to be young.”

There is one point where I do agree with these charlatans of eternal life; that is, health is wealth. An interesting thing happened on my well-traveled road to maturity. My assets, long assumed to be material things and a bank account, morphed into something far more valuable and priceless. Health became paramount and without it everything else pales in comparison.

At any age, all the money in the world doesn’t mean a damn thing if you don’t have your health. And as wealthy as these often-scorned billionaires might be, few of them, if any, can buy their way back to health once it’s gone. Even they aren’t going to ’get out of here alive.’

In retrospect, I’ve been very lucky. I think I’m in fairly good shape simply because I started running early on and never stopped until I was well past 70. After one memorable weekend in the service, I stopped drinking all hard liquor and haven’t had another drop for 67 years. I’ve never smoked (okay, a couple of joints doesn’t count during my wannabe hippie years), and I’ve maintained my weight pretty well. I thought about this phenomenon after finding that more and more of our friends and acquaintances are experiencing health issues at this stage in their lives.

‘Late in life’ issues often prompt a reflective glimpse back in time. The famous Irish poet Oscar Wilde once said, “The final mystery is oneself.” So how does one unravel the mystery of self? It probably can’t happen without self-awareness and self-awareness won’t happen without reflection.

I’m at that point in life where things are starting to happen beyond my control. This old body has been pumping and expanding for seventy-six years. Fortunately, its wear and tear has been relatively minimum. For others an excess of ‘living the good life’ is finally starting to show its consequences. For others, it’s the luck of the draw or the flip side of that event. I mentioned that idea in another blog entitled ‘The Final Tabulation.’

Reflecting back on circumstances or events in one’s life can bring about new insights into your present circumstances. I think reflection is looking inward so one can look back with a broader, more accurate perspective of your current situation in life. Health more than most other events can bring that to the forefront.

As the cliché goes, it’s never too late to begin again. When my mother and stepfather couldn’t dance anymore at ages ninety and eight-two respectively, they took up cards to strengthen their minds. I didn’t recognize it back then but their actions were a powerful motivator for me to keep pressing on.

Assessing what’s really important at this stage of one’s life comes down to the basics. Health, family, friendships and life experiences. All the rest is soon to be outdated, worn out or replaced by this season’s new trend. Stick with the basics and, oh yeah, take time to smell the roses along the way.

Eyes the Color of Fog

Some road trips are more memorable than others. One in particular still sticks prominently in my brain. An excursion along the PCH (Pacific Coast Highway) to relive my youthful dreams of ‘California Living’ from the shelter of my midwestern upbringing. A taste of the golden state, if you will, when my imagination ran rampant with ‘what ifs’ and ‘if only.’ The old lady with eyes the color of fog was my first introduction to the West Coast Experience.

She was an old lady, dressed in black, moving slowly along the overlook with her walker. Finding a spot to rest, she slumps down in her chair and looks around. She had sad eyes the color of fog yet brandished a weak smile which seemed to welcome inquiries. I wanted to, at once; call her over to my picnic table and at the same time hoped someone would appear to take care of her.

As she stared blankly across the ocean, her eyes washed over mine several times but never stuck. She seemed lost in her own thoughts…and perhaps dreams of times past. It didn’t seem right to disturb her. Eventually the woman’s daughter came by to retrieve her and they left. A hundred thousand stories and ‘what if’s’ just slowly shuffling away.

I was perched above a three-tiered cluster of multi-million-dollar homes in Dana Point. The last time I visited the overlook there was only one row of homes overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Rumor had it that Arnold Schwarzenegger has/had a home whose front was all glass and showcased his gym equipment. True or not, it made for a good story.

I’m told there was a fire sale back in 2008 during the recession. One could steal an ocean-view lot for only eight to ten million dollars; much less than their pre-recession prices of double that amount. Now those homes were packed tighter than sardines with zero lot lines and a perfectly magnificent view of their neighbor’s roofline. Welcome to the sometimes foggy, always crazy, coast of California.

This coastal sojourn of mine was a two-and-a-half-day meander through old Spanish ruins, art-filled streets of an old Hippie hangout and cleansing my mind with a sunset at Crystal Cove.

Mission San Juan Capistrano has been home to many indigenous and native peoples and now swallows for over 230 years of its storied history. The mission was initially founded in 1775 by Father Lasuen. He and his fellow padres left the mission for San Diego and it was re-founded by Father Serra on All Saint’s Day, November 1^st, 1776.

The mission became the seventh of twenty-one missions to be founded in Alta California. Like the previous six missions, San Juan Capistrano was established to expand the territorial boundaries of Spain and to spread Christianity to the Native Peoples of California.

For over the next 30 years, Mission San Juan Capistrano grew in population, buildings, livestock, and prominence.  By 1806, the mission had a population of over a 1000 people, over 10,000 head of cattle, and a completed architectural gem, the Great Stone Church.

Like all great monuments to the moment, the mission began to decline over the years. By 1821, Mexico had won its independence from Spain and made Alta California a territory of Mexico. There was yet another government takeover when the United States won the Mexican American War in 1848.

Fast-forward a hundred years and the Catholic Church got its mission back; wealthy donors began campaigns for restoration and a clever priest decided to capitalize on a yearly phenomenon of returning swallows to highlight the mission’s fund-raising efforts.

Long before long-limbed nymphs and their bronze counterparts played volleyball on sun-kissed beaches, Laguna Beach has attracted sun-worshipers and visitors as well as those seeking to expand their consciousness.

In the early 1900s Laguna Beach was a magnet for plein air painters, poets and artists interested in expanding their realm of consciousness. In the early sixties LSD was openly manufactured there. Café Frankenstein was a hangout for beat poets and artists. At night after the tourists left, Hare Krishna dancers and chanters came out in force. The air was thick with grass. There was a street scene alive with kaleidoscopic light shows and abstract works which referenced social and political issues of the time and environmental issues.

Some of the old artists are still around although seldom seen on the crowded tourist-lined streets. Instead, they sequester themselves high in the hills overlooking the clear blue pacific and wonder what happened to their quiet little beach town of years past. Up the road, Newport Beach sets the standard even higher.

Newport Pier is a prime spot for watching the Southern California beach scene unfold. Beach Boy wannabes and weekend surfers ride the waves of imagination and salt air. Young women and old ones alike wear little for the imagination and old men with too much imagination hang over the pier railing and wonder ‘what if…a long time ago…’

Crystal Cove State Park is a wilderness wonderland that includes over 2,400 acres of undeveloped woodland and three and a half miles of beaches. There are forty-six old style cottages in the cove being restored to their 1930s – to – 1950s-era designs.

I rolled off the PCH and got there just in time to watch the sun dropping its pedals along the shoreline. Sunsets at Crystal Cove rival that of Malory Pier in Key West and are just as breath-taking. It was quintessential California with all of its clichés and sublime charms combined. A soul-satisfying place to share with someone else if only for those brief moments in time.

And just like the lady with eyes the color of fog, it was a memory basin filled with the sounds of young children tempting the surf, old women wondering where their time had gone and one inquisitive writer looking for another tale to tell.