I wonder if Spider-man knew. Did John Elway have a clue?
How about Alex English, Carol Alt and Bill Walsh?
They met me when I was young, for a moment. Did they have the faintest idea I’d become an obscure blogger and decent soccer coach? A dad of three and amateur foodie? Did the Easter Bunny know Barack Obama would become president?
Or that little Marco Rubio would, too?
Can Santa Claus tell world leaders from wife beaters?
This graduation season, we’ve heard again how each graduate will change the world.
Will they? Can they? Should they? Is it fair for us to expect it?
Will they, as a housekeeper, tattooist or in the coast guard?
Can they, as a pickpocket, photographer, or clock maker? (Is there still such a thing?)
Should they, as a film producer, electrician, or coroner?
Must you be a world leader to change the world? And what does that even mean?
When we’re asked what we’d do as president for the day, nobility often emerges sharp as a veto pen.
“I’ll make sure we’re kind to each other.”
“My country will have no crime, no pollution, no Walmart fashion infractions.”
“It will be Utopia!”
As POTUS, King of Wishful Thinking, a mild-mannered web copywriter, my wish would be for everybody would know, without a doubt, that they are perfectly imperfect, exactly as they are. Crooked smiles, big ears, messy hair, ugly elbows and self-doubt.
We’re all okay. Better than okay even. Perfectly imperfect.
Beautiful, isn’t it?
Before we can straighten out the street or build up the block, we’ve got to nail it down where we live. I’m not talking in your four walls. I’m talking, under your shoe laces. And straight up above them.
In that way, I don’t want to wait until I’ve been elected or succeed the throne. I’ve already got the power of the vote and veto. For myself.
I’ve gotten a better grip on my own imperfection. I can more adeptly stop the noise from polluting all good things. Of knowing the days of feeling inadequate won’t ever go away, but I can learn to navigate them being kind to myself. That I’m not going to get it all right.
But that my heart can remain true.
I’ve said too much here and also not enough, and I’m sorry about that. My words roll out on the conveyor belt splashed with vague, sprinkled with truth, and far from posts of Disney bashing and pizza chomping I came here with. But it’s a different path.
Maybe it’s the season. Maybe there’s a reason. Maybe not even Spider-man knows.
The one with the best view, though? The guy writing this post. I might not have the turn-by-turn … but I definitely know which direction.