was in a railway train upon the road from Mhow to Ajmir." So writes Kipling in his long short story, "The Man Who Would Be King". (Read the story!). I wouldn't be a king, but I would have been other things at various times in my life.
I used to think I would be a baseball player, but I missed Little League tryouts three years in a row, and then I got into acting, so I had no time for organized sports. Then I thought, for sure, a movie actor. But I realized I didn't want to be a waiter. Next came they steady work of the movie stuntman: too much pain, not enough fame. A firefighter? Lousy hours, slightly stressful. A radio dj: have you heard my voice? A sewer worker in France: don't even ask. Alas, the killer instinct needed for such cutthroat and demanding trades has always eluded me, and Time has a way of snaking a path under our feet and shooing us along until turning onto certain other paths is no longer realistic. Plus, I'm older than Mike Lowell, and he just retired.
So what's left? What would I be? Husband, father, teacher, happy and content in all three and trying to be a man of God. That's the man who is. The Man Who Would Be would be better at each of those things than he is now. I suppose I should try to be a better friend, too. Sigh. And probably a better relative. And a better pet owner. Sigh. Work, work, work!
