Those were the days…

Back in those days…

Did you have that peri­od in your life when you were on your own and you didn’t have a plan? While it might not be the norm, the norm being college—job—marriage—stability—get your adven­ture where you can find it, it must be fair­ly com­mon. Those Days where you were still fig­ur­ing out where you were going with your life, and not nec­es­sar­i­ly in a hur­ry to find out. I have a lot of fond mem­o­ries from that period—and a lot of regrets…and some shame. I’ll bet that’s a com­mon summation.

I some­times won­der what my life would have been like had I bypassed those unshack­led years? It seems like­ly I would have accom­plished more, helped more—been a bet­ter cit­i­zen of the plan­et. But I got some­thing from those years that I des­per­ate­ly need­ed. While I regret many actions, I don’t regret liv­ing through them. What did I get?

That’s when I devel­oped a sense of self. You have to take respon­si­bil­i­ty for your life. You can’t fall back on fam­i­ly or back­ground or sta­tus or any exter­nals. My par­ents did a good job of teach­ing us that—I’m not sure how they did it. Even in and out of rela­tion­ships, I knew I was still learn­ing who I was. Of course, I knew noth­ing about love back then.

It’s not a cliché—experience is a won­der­ful teacher. If you have a Those Days peri­od in your life, I bet it was adven­tur­ous. (I hitch­hiked 50,000 miles in two years—I was hav­ing a con­test with a fel­low adven­tur­er.) One of my favorite Bob Dylan lines: “When you ain’t got noth­ing’, you got noth­in’ to lose.” With­out strong attach­ments, we are more prone to exper­i­ment, to ven­ture out, to take chances. That can go either way, but you learn from both directions.

When talk­ing about Those Days, one of my own favorite lines is: “I learned ten times more doing two years on the road than I did dur­ing one year of col­lege.” It was like a crash course in peo­ple. If you’re not pur­su­ing your life goals, you’re prob­a­bly pur­su­ing fun or spir­i­tu­al growth, and both of those involve peo­ple. And the road gave me diversity—you encounter all man­ner of walks of life. I learned that what­ev­er I end­ed up doing in my life, it need­ed to involve inter­act­ing with peo­ple. It takes all kinds to make up a world—I don’t know if there’s a bet­ter way to learn that than on the ran­dom­ness of the road. And then I got to go work in a men­tal hospital—it was like mov­ing into the hon­ors class.

When rem­i­nisc­ing, it’s hard to avoid the ques­tion of sin. If you go by com­mand­ments and laws, cer­tain­ly I sinned more in that peri­od. If you go by choos­ing what you want instead of what God wants, I did that long after I defect­ed. Alas, I am still fight­ing that bat­tle. Self-indul­gence is a side effect of Those Days—but it’s not the les­son you learn.

I don’t want to glam­or­ize Those Days either. If not for them, I would not have hurt a num­ber of peo­ple who deserved bet­ter from me. Those Days might have tak­en a few years off my dad’s life. I would prob­a­bly not have had to wait until I was 65 to retire. There are con­se­quences for your actions.

Tip­toe­ing through these mem­o­ries, I come around full cir­cle. I’m the prod­uct of every sin­gle one of my expe­ri­ences. No regrets or puff­ing up—just grate­ful that the hand of God has been upon me.

This is a poem I wrote about Those Days:

  • Hitch­hike

    I left the university
    to pur­sue my education
    on the interstate.

    I learned to wait
    and be alone.
    I began to under­stand the nature of man.

    The gay guy in the Cadil­lac put his hand on my knee.
    The drunk endan­gered my life.
    The south­ern man bar­reled down the shoul­der until I jumped.
    The police chased me off the road.
    And I nev­er got a ride with a pret­ty girl.

    But I remem­ber the stars in the desert,
    and the whoosh of the semis that stag­gered me on,
    and the mys­ti­cal mes­sages etched on the signposts.

    I could go anywhere
    will­ing to wait.

  • Comments

    • This was a great read and awe­some thread. Thank you!

      Mary24 June, 2020
    • Remem­ber­ing a mys­ti­cal mes­sage on the back of a sign­post in SoCal “if you get dropped off here, you should just kill your­self.” I assume the writer made it out, as did we.

      Roy20 June, 2020
      • Haha, Roy! Were you with me on that trip! I remem­ber that exact “mys­ti­cal mes­sage” in Barstow, California…in fact, that’s what i was think­ing of when I wrote the poem.

        Dallin Malmgren23 June, 2020
    • Speak­ing of THOSE days, it was fifty years ago next week when i hitch­Hiked into Colum­bia from LA on my way home from Viet­nam, hung with you for a few days til Dave Kre­itzer rolled into town, then he and I hitched the rest of the way back to Upper Dar­by togeth­er. ‘Twas an incred­i­ble feel­ing of free­dom and hap­pi­ness for me after a year Of rules and regs and fear.

      Frank18 June, 2020
    • So your “Those Days” were much wilder than mine. But reflect­ing on those moments that changed my life, they were more spread out over my life­time rather than con­cen­trat­ed time. Good read Dallin.

      Dianne18 June, 2020
    • I remem­ber the mys­ti­cal mes­sage on the back of a sign­post in SoCal that said “If you get dropped off here, you should just kill your­self”. And yet, many of us survived.

      roy17 June, 2020
    • I love this (and all your writ­ings, Dallin. This is spe­cial. Thank you.

      Nancy Osborne17 June, 2020

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