My Way

In 1969 Frank Sinatra recorded and released a Paul Anka song entitled, “My Way.” It spent weeks on the popular music charts of top ten songs. And over the many years since, it has been sung by a plethora of recording artists and many, many singers in all sorts of venues.

One of the thousands of singers all those years ago was me. “My Way” was on my warbling list. I would, with the help of an accompanist friend, sing that song during programs for all sorts of community groups.

So, at 19 and 20 years old at the time, I would belt out the opening lyrics which were blissfully and completely irrelevant to a very young life.

“And now, the end is near and so I face the final curtain. My friend, I’ll say it clear. I’ll state my case of which I’m certain. I’ve lived a life that’s full. I traveled each and every highway. And more, much more than this, I did it my way.”

At best, while I did not know it then, these words for me all those years ago were aspirational nonsense.

The “My Way” song goes on. I sang the lyrics with gusto.

“…I planned each charted course. Each careful step along the byway. And more, much more than this, I did it my way.”

I am 76 years old now and often wonder where over a half century has gone.  I am much closer (yet hopefully still a long way off) to the final curtain and I certainly think about that final curtain more often. But all that admitted, I can write and say with certainty that it would be a complete delusion to think that the highways and byways of my life were traveled “my way.” 

In fact, should any person of any age suggest to me that they have charted their course, planned all the steps, and accomplished all things doing it their way, I would cry out, “Bullshit! We have all had help!”

There is no question but what we each have a large amount of input to and must make a personal commitment to preparation for our intended journeys. But that said, all the “my way” stuff really stops there. The influences, influencers, the opportunities – or missed opportunities – the unexpected detours, our health and all sorts of variables over which we ultimately had or have no control, make claims of living our lives doing it “my way” a tragic arrogance. 

There are other lyrics to songs that I sing now. They carry great truth. “Morning by morning, new mercies I see” would be one. Another most certainly is “when the storms of life are raging, stand by me.” I think of all the times when a charted course has been transformed by how my wife’s or my child’s or grandchild’s “love lifted me.”  I have discovered that far from the certainties of any self-charted, careful steps, it is far better to be “standing on the promises.”

I think of all the things in my life which have been serendipities, unexpected and unearned joys. I think of friendships which have surprised, nurtured, influenced, informed, and FORMED me. They are serendipities from which I have been enriched. Such occurrences and relationships were not charted steps by me. Instead, frequently they have kept me from falling headlong into self-centered loneliness.

Sinatra sings, “and now the end is near and so I face the final curtain.” How does anyone know that? What an unsettling certainty it would be to know in advance the moment the final curtain comes down.

I like how Shakespeare “sings” in his classic play, “As You Like It.” 

“All the world’s a stage. And all men and women merely players; they have their exits and entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts…”

Instead of the certainty of a final curtain, I think it far, far more exciting to think about what part is next.