The One Where I Thought I Could Go It Alone

I grew up as an only child to elderly parents who, at that time in a society where only twenty-year-old women had babies. My Mom was almost forty years old when I was born in 1961.

Growing up I was always different from most of the kids in my class. “Is that your grandma?” my classmates would ask me after a PTA meeting. “No, that’s my Mom I would reply.” feeling a bit embarrassed by being reminded that I didn’t fit in.

For the most part, I was alright with being left out. I would ride my bike around the neighborhood for hours or play at the schoolyard. I was not allowed to play organized sports. You see older parents can only see the potential for injury for their only son and don’t see the benefit of group activities.

“Who is going to pay the medical bill if you get hit in the head with a baseball?” my Dad would ask whenever I dare broach the subject of joining Little League.

It has not been until later in life, some would say in my senior years, that I have learned the importance of tribe. Having a group of people of a common goal that are there to support you when needed and call you out on your BS when necessary,

My tribe motivates me to take action when normally I would recede to the shadows to find my comfort zone never growing. Playing it safe, non-inspiring. Not helping myself or those who are important to me and who rely on me to lead and provide for them.

The way ahead can be long and perilous but with a team, the load is light and the miles are not so arduous.