Can You Hear Me Now

History repeats itself, first as tragedy, second as farce.

Karl Marx

Shortly after Mom’s 90th birthday she said to me, “How did I get so old?” My answer was quick and to the point. “You didn’t die.” While I am far short of Mom’s eventual 98 years, I can’t help but ask myself the same question. Wasn’t it only yesterday that I was a freshman at Coronado High trying to figure out where my locker was? And the day before that I was pushing a wooden boat in the sandbox outside my kindergarten room at Loloma Elementary School. How do I now find myself in a place where my three kids have kids?

Some days age feels like little more than a series of blinks. Blink once and I’m ten. Five times and I am a retired man with four grandchildren. Seven blinks and who knows where I will find myself?

I was recently responsible for the topic at my men’s retirement group and I chose this.

As we grow older, we often think to ourselves, “This may be the last time I do this.” For my topic, I want us to explore our first times. Your first time can come from a number of different places. For example, your first real job interview, your first apartment or home, your first color TV, or the first time you voted. You can also get more personal with your first kiss, your first breakup, or the first time you met your in-laws.

Feel free to dig deep into your life and find the first times that hold significant meaning. Even better, how did they change your life in meaningful ways? Did that first time open doors that might otherwise have stayed shut? Did it create a line that you could not cross back over?

I, of course, would not have suggested the topic if I didn’t have my own firsts. In fact, I have quite a few worth talking about, but in order to allow everyone an opportunity to share theirs, I settled on this one.

An Invitation to the Dance

I found my first out-of-college job through a want ad in the newspaper. Remember those — want ads and newspapers? The company was Northern Telecom and it asked for a programmer with a background in PBXs. I had never heard of Northern Telecom and had no idea what a PBX was. Still, I applied for the job and an offer was extended the day I interviewed. The year was 1983 and my starting salary was $22,500 a year. Believe me, after working poor paying restaurant jobs all through my college years, that felt like hitting the jackpot.

A few days into the job I attended my first staff meeting. There must have been about 15 of us gathered around the table in the big conference room and for the next hour or so, everyone other than me talked about what they were working on.

I can’t recall the exact conversations, but to my greenhorn ears it was an endless stream of gibberish. There was talk about 585s, 445s, 503s, 440s and Displayphones. Folks went on and on about “job select” and “transients.” None of it meant anything to me and I sat there feeling stupid and out of place. I thought to myself, “What am I doing here? There is no way I can do this job?” I left the meeting thinking that I needed to start looking for a different job as soon as possible. It was impostor syndrome times ten.

Thankfully, over the new few days I figured out that I actually knew what they were talking about. I just didn’t know the terms they were using. Those numbers were the models of different computers we produced and I certainly knew what a computer was. The rest of the gobbledygook was little more than proprietary ways of saying things I knew by different words. “Job select” meant kill a running program. A “transient” was a piece of code that was swapped in and out of RAM. While there were concepts new to me, I was familiar with nearly everything else by different names. I went from feeling extremely dumb to confident that I was in the right place.

At best, you might call it an unlikely gift
a dubious and suspect present
but more accurately
it’s a teachable moment
the kind that never needs repeating

Like putting your hands to the fire
to learn what it means to burn

The aftermath of this first meeting became something I carried with me all throughout my career. Realizing how language has the potential to make someone feel diminished, I always tried to be aware of how I spoke about my job. Rather than hitting a newcomer over the head with an endless stream of company and product specific jargon, I learned to meet people where they are. I did not want to make anyone feel like I did after that first staff meeting. Making someone feel small is not the way to build synergy. We all do better when we take the time to invite listeners into our world rather than scare them away.

When you invite someone to sit at your table and you want to cook for them, you’re inviting a person into your life. Maya Angelou

Bright Lights

There have been so many more life-altering firsts in my life. I could talk about my first kiss, my first apartment, my first breakup, my first medical scare, or my first child, but I won’t. Instead, I will close out with a first that occurred only a few days ago.

On Tuesday, November 11, 2025, I stepped outside my front door and witnessed the biggest Aurora Borealis that will probably occur in my lifetime. Not only was it and amazing spectacle, but after 40 year in Minnesota, this was my first time seeing Northern Lights. Believe me, I tried many times before that. While I had not given up, I was wondering if they were ever going to show up for me. Finally getting my turn despite all the light pollution of the Twin Cities made it even more memorable.

It’s too early to tell you what I learned from this, but I am certain something will come to me. This has been true for every important thing I’ve waited for and I expect this one will not be the exception.

I’m curious. What is a first that changed your life? How did the experience help make you who you are today?

Thank you for reading.

A first among many
each one different and unexpectedly new
like a year of summer days joyfully relived
or the taste of honey on lips and tongue
nervous anticipation
the tingle before and the glow beyond

A journey
an arrival
a kiss