Its 1977…..
A typical summer’s day in the then Rhodesia, now Zimbabwe. We are 16 and the classroom we are occupying is humid with the heat of 30 bodies in thick khaki school uniforms. We have just finished discussing the unbelievable technology that will be available in the year 2000. Robots and flying cars, doctors being able to operate without cutting and, believe it or not, telephones without wires! It is all so fascinating.
While our teacher is cleaning the chalk off the worn, green blackboard, I sit and ponder on this space age future that awaits us. How long do we have to wait, and more importantly, how old will I be. Will I be young enough to enjoy the full benefits? I grab my pen and on a piece of paper I begin to find the answers – We will have to wait 23 years, almost a quarter of a century I deduce. It is a figure that is difficult to comprehend when you have only been alive for 16 years, but what is staggering, is that my calculations show that I will be a decrepit 39 year old in the year 2000! My grandparents died when I was very young and my father died at 40, so that was my only measuring stick, 39 was cutting it close and I was mortified that I would not be around longer to enjoy driving my flying car.
Cut to 2019, those telephones without wires are a nuisance, doctors can work wonders with lasers and robots are becoming more commonplace. I have safely navigated through the maze of life to be 58 but still haven’t driven, let alone owned, that flying car. I have, however, been a husband, a father and recently, a grandfather.
I look at my silver haired reflection every morning and ask myself where all the years have gone, and, as I have done all my life, I wonder what I want to do with my life, because after nearly 6 decades, I really have no idea.
I have always played sport and recently, due to constant abuse, my old faithful knees began to play up, I’m sure it is a common thing amongst men and women our age, so, in order to satisfy my competitive nature, I began to play lawn bowls. That, in itself, is a story for another day, but the reason for me mentioning it, is that it has given me the opportunity to interact meaningfully with people a lot more senior in years than I and realise that most of them struggle with relevance, or the lack of it.
I first felt it when my youngest daughter returned from university with her post grad degree and could engage me in real, grown up, debate. She would often leave me astounded at her new found maturity and differing views and I began rethinking the answers to some questions I was very sure of when my kids were younger.
Am I and are my ideas still relevant? Do my values, my belief system, still have a place?
Am I ever going to own a flying car?
