I came across today’s quote while digging for something to chalk about and it sent me straight back to high school and Death of a Salesman. I hated that play when I was seventeen. I hated reading plays in general. This one had flashbacks and dream sequences that made it harder to put together.
Recently I stumbled onto the 1980s film version with Dustin Hoffman and John Malkovich. Watching it made me pick the book back up after forty years of life under my belt. It made me realize this literature that I once thought was garbage was a masterpiece.
Willy Loman is the American Dream on two tired and worn-out legs. His hard work, hustle, determination and the promise that it all adds up to success was an illusion that Arthur Miller ripped apart. Willy was chasing ghosts, haunted by his failures, living inside the false grandeur he built for himself. That hit me hard, not because my story is Willy’s story, but because I know what it is like to be my own worst enemy. Every time life knocked me down, it wasn’t fate. It was me throwing the punch.
It took me years to stop fighting myself and once I did, the world didn’t change, I did. Suddenly, astonishment wasn’t something I had to chase. It was right there, waiting for me as it always was.
Today is Saturday and it is rugby day. Opening day for my beloved Chicago Blaze. George will be off hanging with his JoJo, and I’m going to spend my afternoon with hookers and flankers, rucks and scrums. There’s a smile on the sun, and there’s a glorious day ahead.
Go get some gusto out there and find the astonishment in August twenty-third.
