The song, “My Way” by Frank Sinatra, was playing on our car radio the other morning. Everyone from the Geritol Generation knows this tune. It ends with these lyrics, “I did it my way!”
My favorite line in this song is,
“Regrets, I’ve had a few. But then again, too few to mention.”
I can relate to that but with a different twist.
“Regrets, I’ve had numerous. But then again, too many to remember!”
I’ve read about Frank Sinatra’s personal life and it seems he should have more regrets than he claims. Like me, perhaps he forgot some along the way.
My first memorable regret deals with winding my grandparent’s prized clock until the spring popped. I held that secret for many years. I’m sure they knew who did it. I was around five at the time, so the statute of limitations is well past.
I regret trying to steal several toys from a daycare that I stuffed down my shirt. Caught on the way out because of a bulge in my tummy, Mom was totally embarrassed.
I regret calling some kid in that same daycare,
Mother told me the child was totally devastated by my vivid description.
I regret daring my brother that he couldn’t shoot out a streetlight with his BB gun. It was obvious who did it because the light was in front of our Selma, Alabama home. Jim’s butt paid the ultimate price.
I regret touching a stove top just to see if it was hot.
I regret not remembering or writing down more stories that my grandparents told me. Sadly, they took that family history with them.
I regret passing a note my first year in high school and then having it confiscated by the teacher. Having him read out loud that I wanted to start a treasure hunting club was most embarrassing. I can still hear my classmates laughing.
I regret picking up the assistant manager of a grocery store I worked for and tossing him into a pile of cardboard boxes. Alan wasn’t hurt, yet I suffered dire consequences for my misguided action. I was relieved of my duties and rightly so.
I regret not becoming a fireman after I’d passed all the tests. Who knows, there’s a slim chance I might’ve ended up on one of those firemen calendars.
I regret not telling my parents that I loved them more often.
I regret my jokingly informing a police officer,
“I have a license to speed.”
It only took seconds to find out the officer didn’t share my sense of humor.
I regret selling my 1968 Dodge Charger R/T in 1974. That car would be worth big bucks today.
I regret listening to a financial adviser who warned me not to buy Chrysler stock at $5.00 a share. Two years later it was $30.00 and eventually split.
I regret not being able to find Alaskan investors to go in with me, on purchasing the 640 acre tract where Havasu Foothills Estates now sits. In 1980, Randy Randall with Harold Johnson Realty offered it to my wife and I for what seems like 550k. Can you imagine the value now?
I regret sliding a personal watercraft control-lever into reverse while doing 40 just to see what would happen. Thank goodness it was a rental.
I regret not spending more time with my children before they left home.
I regret not purchasing additional, Bill O’Reilly tee-shirts with USA GREAT printed on front. Quality garments, they no longer are offered.
Most of all, unlike Frank Sinatra, I regret during my early years, doing things my way when I should’ve done them God’s way.
Had I taken his advice instead of my own, I would’ve cut down considerably on my life blunders!