At the Speed of Dean Martin

I have always lived a fairly full life with a very full schedule. Every evening and weekend filled with concerts, events, birthday parties, networking and derby. You would be hard pressed to find a hole on my schedule within two months. But I liked it that way. Never bored. Always moving, connecting and making more plans.

With one fall, my slate cleared. Since I injured my knees nearly a month ago, I was forced to cancel, postpone or miss out on scheduled meetings and events. Plans of weekend camping vanished. A weekend in San Francisco: gone. Meetings at work were rescheduled or happened without me. Life moved on in its rapid pace, but I became a snail. Moving slowly, I have become an observer of life.

Outfitted with my grandfather’s 18 year old Nissan, since I’m not able to drive my stick-shift Mini Cooper, I have been transported back in time. His smell still lingers on, as the current soundtrack of my life streams from the cassettes he left behind. And Dean Martin reminds me, memories are made of this.

I have come to appreciate spending evenings at home with my family and gawking at the details of life most people are too much on. I am slowly starting to getting out more, but I want to keep this slower mentality with me as I begin to move faster physically.


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