Which, for example, is the voice of reason?  

One says, very convincingly, that this idea of mine, creating a place where kids can talk and play, and be listened to, while working on complicated projects that require them to work as a team, has great value and is exactly the right thing for me to be working on.  The program has the ability to rescue some kids, the invisible collateral damage of a society that doesn’t blink when millions grow up doomed in our wealthy nation.  It really seems to be what I should be doing, personally.   After all, it calls so many of my skills and talents into play and challenges me to master skills I don’t have.  I am also probably the ideal adult to help the kids, and show others how to,  I can help with every aspect of it: talking, listening, drawing, editing, playing music, making jokes, etc.   Plus, I am calm and reasonable and quick on my feet.   It is only a matter of time, fine-tuning and recruiting a few good people and this program could really take off.  It could help a lot of kids and demonstrate a lot about intrinsic motivation, the power of the imagination, creativity on learning,  inventing and solving problems.  And, tragically, these crucial abilities go largely untapped in a world that has never needed them more.

Every other day another voice speaks just as convincingly and tells me, with no equivocation, that my idea is a day dream that I, personally, have no hope of being able to flesh out enough to bring into the world as an ongoing program or business.   Yes, the kids often have fun, sure they’ve occasionally done some very promising animation, but that only makes me a good day camp counselor and not any kind of social entrepreneur, educational theorist, Founder or businessman.

Rarely do these competing voices compromise.  Although the truth will turn out to be full of gradations, and colored by both of these points of view, in this internal debate it’s often all black or it’s all  white, just like the real world, as argued about by partisan idiots.  Both points of view are categorical– one saying “if you will it, it is no dream” and the other snorting.  “Right, quote Herzl, idiot.  If you dream it, it is a dream.”

The answer is, strictly speaking, neither of the above, and answering it correctly will require a steady struggle.  If I believe steadfastly enough, and work hard enough (and the work is hard, no debate there), and take satisfaction and inspiration from every small advance, learn enough key things I don’t know now, it is quite possible that the program could grow into something like what I envision.   If I am fearful enough, and distracted enough, and dogged enough by the often sorry history of unrealized things I’ve dreamed of, well, certain failure is no fear, it’s guaranteed.   A man without a smiling face should not open a shop.  If you can’t say something nice about someone, don’t say anything.  The best throw of the dice is to throw them away (found in a cookie at Hop Kee, circa 1974).  I know you are, but what am I?

“You always covered your ass,” my mother observed once, in a conversation about risk we had when I was already a grown man, not entirely approving of her son’s general caution, displayed consistently since I was a very young child.   Our society rewards the boldness of daring risk-takers, so does nature.  Going out on a limb can be an expression of boldness or fear, it depends on how or why it’s done.  The limb can break and you may too, chasing something just out of reach or falling into deadly jaws while clinging desperately one small step ahead of a predator.

The title of this post is also ridiculous.  Nobody knows how the story ends.  The only certain thing is that they’ll throw dirt over a box containing your remains, or store you in a vase, or sprinkle your dust to return to the dust from which you came.   Or bag you and toss your bones.  Or some other variation on what the world does with a dead person.   If you lived right, and touched people in a loving way, rather than being mean, selfish, petty and greedy, your memory will be a blessing.  Otherwise, what can you say?  A thousand people at his funeral, including reporters, many sobbing.  As for the guest of honor?  He can’t even sigh.

Dominic, the indomitable dog hero of the great William Steig’s book Dominic, met an alligator headed woman, a fortune teller, at a fork in the road, not long after he set out from his nice home seeking the adventure of his life.  The witch told him that one road led to things she could describe to him, pretty good things, it seemed.  The other road?  She really couldn’t say, beyond that it would be an adventure.  Our hero did not hesitate, nor seek to find out what was behind door number one, he went down the second road.

And the rest, as they say, is history.