Our life, the time we spend on earth, is our business. Some of us, frankly, and I am speaking purely from my own experience to date, do not take as good care of our business as we should.
My health and bank balance prove that. If I had been given an instruction manual when I was born, wouldn’t that have been great? But instead, I winged it, as we all do, as best I could at the time.
My daughters, brilliant as they both are, have a passion for spreadsheets. My youngest, Lara, even has a color-coded calendar to make sure she is always where she needs to be and when.
I, not so much. They keep perfect budgets and plan ahead. Me, not so much. Their homes are clean and neat. Me? Well, mine looks “lived in.”
My main concern has always been relationships, and I guess there can be spreadsheets for even those.
My brother Jeff thought of himself as the star of his own soap opera. As I, his five-year-old younger sister, watched, he managed his life in his own individual style, and he made a lasting impression on me.
Even the other day, over twenty-five years after his death, I referenced him while talking to one of my daughters. We spoke about how people at times seem to enter and exit our lives, much like Uncle Jeff’s cast sheets, as if they only had “walk-on” parts.
Cast sheets are a common term in show business. Describing the actors to be used in any particular shoot. Some actors have only brief storylines, others have long-term ones. Some actors may add color to a scene while others have a significant, even lifelong impact, but all were needed.
I have never known anyone else who absorbed the habit of personal life cast sheets. For Jeff his life indeed was his business, for certainly there was no business in his life. I have always believed Jeff was born in the wrong century.
He should have been born to royalty when royalty ruled all. His comings and goings might have made history.
Jeff, every month, every day of every year, kept meticulous spreadsheets of his life or those outside of himself, people he saw and talked to, and he even had a rating system within his system.
At the end of each month, he wrote a summary of people with a strong storyline, fading out, rather fun, etc.
Reading over his spreadsheets many years ago, I saw how indeed people, or in Jeff’s vernacular, characters, did seem to enter, build their plot and almost always exit. I could see that in many ways, Jeff was an observer with people rated only by their influence on him, the star.
It struck me as sad that Jeff thought of life that way. Now, still not a fan of his methodology, I do see the rhythm of those who have entered and exited my life. I considered the people who were such a big part of a present reality, who are now memories, some faded.
I used to think of that as cruel. Now I see these decades more as chapters in a book and each person (character) as playing a role in, not just my life at the time, but by what gift or lesson they had to share with me, and I am grateful for all.
When I lived in Michigan, I felt that those who made up my world would always be there. Our moving across the nation changed that. My mother, brother and I made that trip while leaving most of everything else behind.
When my brother’s best friend came out to see him, he would eventually become my first husband, it was a big, pivotal plot change.
My children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren all are here because of a strange turn of fate, or on Jeff’s cast sheet, “a person that led to a person that changed my life.” We probably all have many times in our personal history that seemed little at the time and grew into something huge.
Perhaps that is why I look at each person I meet as filled with possibilities, and I try to remain open to that fact.
I met Babs when I was thirteen and she was twelve in Pacific Palisades while on the sidelines of a game at the Junior High we had both attended. She had twisted her ankle that day and was unable to play.
She was the typical athletic California girl, and I was not. I had two left feet. Still, we seemed to find a fast friendship. When I moved to another school only one month later, we stayed in contact.
Now 75 years later, we remain forever friends. Although we have lived hundreds, and at times thousands of miles apart, for 73 years.
The godmother of my children, the longest living person in my life, she is an integral part of who I am. Yet, with Jeff’s cast sheets, she might have been only a walk-on.
Over 28 years ago, I was headed down to visit Babs. During the last leg of my journey, on a train from Los Angeles to San Diego, I happened to sit next to a woman whose name I learned was Chich.
For one and a half hours, the two of us talked nonstop with an instant connection. We shared addresses and phone numbers. Although I never got to see Chich face to face again, we began a tight friendship via phone, letters and emails until her death at the end of last year.
Through so many difficult and joyous times, Chich was there. I cannot imagine my life without her. What could have been a walk-on part became an opportunity that Chich and I took to heart.
Shortly after my husband, Ron’s, death, I got a letter from one of my readers named Wendy Barker. In writing about Ron’s death, I had referenced the movie “Jesus Christ Superstar,” and it had struck a personal chord for her.
Wendy had lost her husband not long before mine, and offered her friendship. I wrote to her and suggested we meet for lunch. More than fourteen years later, we remain close friends.
Forty-five years ago, I was walking around a JCPenney’s store in San Jose, looking like someone who had all the red licked off her sucker. A pretty blonde doing makeovers at the cosmetic counter approached me to get one. She would not take no for an answer.
Three hours went by, and now all these years later, she remains one of my dearest friends. Life gives us many walk-ons that can become lifelong relationships.
My dear friend and Godmother, Lou Vierra, took part in an article I was writing about a beauty salon’s services in Los Banos. She has become one of my closest and dearest friends, someone who has never failed to be there for me.
Life gives us opportunities with walk-ons, neighbors, coworkers, church members and so many types of doors that we can open or pass by. Once we meet someone, it is up to us to decide if we want to invest in them. Just as flowers need to be watered to survive, friendships need care to thrive.
Just for fun, when you have a spare moment, think about your life’s cast sheet. Start your own list of all the people, so far, who have touched your life.
Who started out as a walk-on and became a star? Look at the names of those who seemed to enter your life and then moved on. Think of how those people changed you, enhanced your life or taught you a lesson. Is there room to add new names? What wonders may be waiting to be found?
Nice as a big bank account may be, fancy cars or homes, nothing is more valuable than the relationships you gather throughout your life. Friends and family love you for who you are. All the people who touch our lives teach us lessons. My wish is that all my readers have plentiful life cast sheets.
Diana Ingram can be reached at DingramThurston21@gmail.com
