By Wayne Allensworth
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I —
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference
The Road Not Taken — Robert Frost
It’s been a year and half since I retired. Friends warned that I would be bored or lack any direction or sense of purpose and that, in turn, might lead to bad consequences. It didn’t. I find plenty of purpose and direction in my writing, in my friendships, in watching my children’s and grandchildren’s life trajectories. And in lending a helping hand to others when I can. I visit some elderly folks (as my granddaughter told me, “Pops, you’re old, but not real old”) who have lost their spouses. I remember how lonely my father was after my mother died. I had an old car that was just sitting by the curb, and I let my exterminator take it. He was in a bind financially, then his vehicle was stolen, and he had to have one so he could work. I taught a neighbor’s daughter how to drive. Things like that.
I don’t think I’m doing anything special, just following the example my parents set. My father helped people whether they deserved it or not, but always with a little “tough love,” to put it mildly, advice about adjusting their behavior. My mother helped take care of ailing relations, among many, many other acts of kindness. I’ve found that it is the small things that loom largest in our lives, not the things people usually think about. I’m not much on feel-good slogans or bumper sticker Christianity, but I saw one recently that I couldn’t help but agree with: Be the answer to someone’s prayer today.
I had a good career. I did practically everything I wished, but looking back, it didn’t really amount to much. I was an intelligence analyst, interpreting events in a far, but very important, corner of the world, interpretations that could possibly affect policy decisions and foreign relations, even questions of war and peace. But the powers-that-be generally went right ahead with whatever they had planned anyway, regardless of what anyone told them. The road I took was less traveled by the people I knew best, but it had its rewards. The really good things that came out of my brilliant career weren’t even the respect of colleagues (which was gratifying, of course) or awards, or anything like that. It was meeting a lot of fine people along the way, learning about life and the way the world works. That was valuable, something I could take with me — and try to pass on. The greatest gifts of all in my life have been friends and family and learning by interacting with them. One’s life and what one learns along the way are the real career we have. The journey that we all make, whichever fork in life’s road we decide to take.
Plenty of sociological data show what makes us happy if you need some expert to tell you what I believe the wisest among us have always known: Beyond supplying basic needs, with a little bit of a cushion, human happiness does not increase with material wealth or position. In fact, it appears to be the opposite. It’s relationships and personal ties that matter — a sense of fulfillment and purpose. A friend I met in graduate school told me about a man in her home country who was interviewed by an economist or some other government official. The man had a shop of some sort and was doing well. Why didn’t he expand and open another shop? She said the shop owner was puzzled. Why, he asked, would I want to do that? I have all I need.
When I was taking my walk this morning, a couple of words kept popping up in my head: blago (blessing in Russian) and blagodarnost (gratitude).
I have a way to go in life, but it’s never too early to take stock of things and say “thanks.” I thank God for life. It all starts there. And with Christ. He told us that life wouldn’t be easy, but there was meaning in suffering. Take up your cross. Lose your life to gain it. There are far too many people to thank, too many events that were instructive, to recount them all, but here is a sample:
Thanks to that guy in a Chevy pickup who stopped to lend a hand when we had a blowout on the highway not so long ago. I broke his tire tool while trying to remove the lug nuts from the flat, but he shrugged it off and wouldn’t take any money. In that one incident, all the help I’ve ever received from people who did not want anything in return was summed up. Pass it on.
More thanks to many others…
… my childhood friends and all the other dear friends that I made in school and college. We were all learning the ropes then, and having friends that cared for you helped get over all the roadblocks and hazards and mistakes one makes. That’s how you learn. Loyalty and the memories of shared experiences have gone a long way.
… my family and extended family. I was blessed to have so many relations, cousins and uncles and aunts, to know my grandparents and great grandparents. Together with the neighborhood and school friends, they made up a safety net of sorts and gave me a sense of belonging.
… the teachers, coaches, mentors, and exemplars who encouraged me, criticized me when I needed it, and had confidence in me when I wasn’t sure of myself.
… my work colleagues when I was teaching, and in my second career as an analyst. I learned a lot from you, but those personal relationships were what really mattered most.
… those who encouraged and helped me in my alternative life as a writer. And to the great writers who inspired me. A special thanks to my paternal grandfather, Oliver Allensworth, a working man who loved books.
… those friends and family who have endured suffering bravely and dealt with personal tragedy with grace, faith, and fortitude. I was paying attention. A special shout out to my friend Tom, a real profile in courage.
… to a Russian border guard at the port of entry in Vladivostok, who, on a cold day so long ago now, overlooked a clerical mistake regarding my visa — “We can be friends now,” he said, meaning Russians and Americans — and helped launch one of the great adventures of my life.
…and finally, to those who taught me what love means, love that is expansive, selfless, and forgiving. A special thanks to my wife, Stacy.
Chronicles contributor Wayne Allensworth is the author of The Russian Question: Nationalism, Modernization, and Post-Communist Russia, and a novel, Field of Blood. For thirty-two years, he worked as an analyst and Russia area expert in the US intelligence community.
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