It’s a Wonderful Life

By Bud Focht

Hi, my name is Bud and recently I’ve been watching my favorite Christmas movies. White Christmas with Bing Crosby and Danny Kaye, Scrooged with Bill Murray, and Love Actually with a large ensemble that includes Hugh Grant, Colin Firth and Liam Neeson.

One of the Christmas movie classics I chose not to watch this year was It’s a Wonderful Life. The only part of that movie that I really liked was the fact that the cop and taxi driver were named Bert and Ernie, way before Sesame Street was even a glint in the eye of the late, great Jim Henson.

So it wasn’t a tough choice to make.

Like everyone, though, I’ve had some really tough choices to make over the years. Some worked out well. Others, not so much.

I was recently asked that if I could go back and change any of the choices I’ve made, which ones would I change.

Without a bit of thought I said “none.”

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve made my share of bad choices in my life. Some real whoppers. Like eating two Whoppers from Burger King before going on a three-hour bus ride. That was a three-hour tour that ranked right up there with the SS Minnow!

But the reason I said ‘no’ so quickly was because I’ve seen the Back to the Future movie trilogy enough times to know that if it was possible to go back and change a mistake I made in the past, it might not have led me to where I am right now.

There have been many books written and movies made that have touched on this theme. About 30 years ago there was a movie that not many people saw, called Mr. Destiny, where the late, great John Belushi’s kid brother Jim went back in time and changed his life for what he thought was for the better. He regretted it.

The most famous version of this scenario, of course, was It’s a Wonderful Life.

We’ve all made bad choices in our lives. But we have all (I hope) made good choices, as well.

I’m reminded of a tough choice I had to make about 40 years ago when I first moved from college in Miami to my first job in Rhode Island.

I was starting to drive into a snowstorm, exiting the college campus that I had just begun working at that fall, and I was stopped at a red light next to a bus stop. There were three people standing there in the freezing rain/sleet/snow.

I first realized that one of them was a new friend of mine, a guy who befriended me when I first moved to the Ocean State, when I didn’t know anyone. Then I saw next to him was this girl who I’d seen on campus and I really wanted to get to know. And the third person was an old, frail women who didn’t look too good.

My back seat was broken and still stuck in the down position to make the trunk bigger for the move north, so I only had one seat to offer. When I got out of the car, still not sure who to offer the passenger seat to, I found out that the old woman was waiting for the bus to go to the hospital.

So, which one do I give a ride?  I had a choice to make. A tough choice.

Who would you have given the ride to? 

What I did was this. I gave my car keys to my new friend and asked him to drive the old woman to the hospital on his way home, while I hung out at the bus stop with the girl, Terry, who I am now married to.

That turned out to be a good choice.

A really tough choice I had to make 27 months ago was to quit my job to become a full-time caregiver for my Terry, who is now entering the latter and toughest stage of Early Onset Alzheimer’s Disease.

At that time there were several people close to me who knew I could not afford to quit my job, and tried to persuade me to continue working, and hire someone to help with Terry.

They made a good argument, but I couldn’t do it. I was not about to let others take care of Terry. She was my wife.

First my daughter came home from Augusta, Georgia, where she lived in a mansion with a pool, working as an au pair (French for nanny), to live with us and help take care of Terry.

Once I convinced her that I had everything under control, she moved out and got on with her life.

Then my son came home from D.C., where he had just begun a new job after getting a big promotion, to help out with Terry’s care.

But I realized he had his whole life ahead of him and needed to get back into the work force, whereas I was at the tail end of my career. It made more sense for him to work and for me to quit my job.

So shortly after entering my 36^th year at a job that, despite being a 70-hour a week job, a job I loved, a job that was attractive to many (only 300 or so such jobs exist in the country, a job that 88 people applied for when I got it), I quit.

I had received a higher calling.   That was a good choice that I will never regret.

I must admit that some days I really wish I was still working those 70-hour weeks, opposed to the 168-hour weeks I work now.

Sometimes I feel like the job I do now is killing me. But then I remember that it is the disease that is killing my Terry, not me.

And I remember that I am fortunate that I was able to quit my job to care for her, the most important person in my life.

Then I remember that this is, indeed, a Wonderful Life.

Until next time, try to remember how wonderful, actually, your life is, even when your Christmas isn’t white, and people are being like Scrooge to you.

Merry Christmas, everyone.

Bud

budfocht@gmail.com