I love the surge of energy I feel from being first. I fully accept it when it happens by accident because the achievement of first place, or being first in line, is often overshadowed by the thought that someone else has to be second. That schoolyard memory of being picked for a team at recess weighs heavily on any empathic person’s heart. Being chosen first carries great responsibility. Being overlooked is crushing to the spirit.
In any planning session, as a kid or adult, I appreciated doing first-things-first, because I’m a first and foremost sort of guy. It’s structure that is important to me, not necessarily the idea that my thoughts or opinions have to come first. Everybody’s definition, as a feeling of First, may be amusing. For example my 97 year old special mom places high importance on the first of every month. She tells me that it keeps her mind on track for what the month will bring. She will count down the days, building routine, visualizing the little squares on a calendar, remembering birthdays, holidays, and appointments until number 30 or 31 occurs. She takes special delight in February because it’s her birthday month.
This elder in my life told me that she can’t remember if she’s ever won an award. I recited my list: two firsts in elementary school public speaking and a gold ribbon in breast stroke. I asked my bride if she remembered if I’d ever won anything during our time together and she said, “You won me!” (It’s no wonder why this woman must always come first in my life). Schoolchildren often shout “No budging!” as they monitor their order in a line waiting for their turn. They learn early that being first is great but it’s not nice to elbow your way into prominence. That’s what bugs me most about rich folk thinking they earned their way to the top. In my record book, FLOTUS is not real. I think you need a certain kind of ambition to be first at something. I love the experience of claiming the gold medal, but I’ll admit I’m kind of lazy trying to achieve a trophy of any sort. Coming in first is great in the Olympics, or the Academy Awards. The reality is that most of us have to settle for being among-the-pack, embracing the joy of participation.
The truth is that we are all first-editions. We get a chance to write our unique story and claim any award we wish for our efforts. For example, I love being the first to show up at a party (it means I can be the first to leave). It’s exhilarating to think I’m the first to greet a sunrise (even though I’m not a morning person). After a snowfall, it is so refreshing to be the first to make a boot imprint in the cold winter powder. Sometimes, in the quiet of a beachside sunset, I want to shout ownership by announcing, “I claim this land in the name of Berto the Explorer!”
