This answer is no piece of cake
On today, my 51st birthday, Mrs. Sortal surprised me in the newsroom, which reminded me of this column moment by me (it ran in our Travel section a few years ago).
Parenting opportunities are rare as our children grow up, so we should make the most of them whenever the opportunity strikes. Even if it's in the middle of a gorgeous sunset on the final night of your family cruise.
The question might as well have surfaced from the depths of the sea under us; the only thing that would have surprised me more would have been a mermaid popping up onto our deck.
We're here having a great time, but it'll all be over soon. So, what's the point? What's the meaning of life?
It was 80 degrees out, but I almost shivered when I heard our 14-year-old ask this. It was a parent's dream, a belt-high fastball down the heart of the plate, giving us a chance to spray our worldly knowledge into our young ones' impressionable heads.
But to tell you the truth, instead of a homer, I nearly popped it up.
My own misbehavior had prompted the heavy discussion, so I was a little bit off-balance. The waiters had surprised me with a "Happy Birthday" cake, as they do for what seems like half the passengers, and when picture time came, I slipped in a universally inappropriate hand gesture. The rattled staff still made it through Happy Birthday, but my family was embarrassed.
It prompted a long discussion about our trip, how I had grumbled through our Nassau stop ("Too many street vendors") and Key West ("What you call `quaint,' I call `old and run-down.'") And how I had grumbled that each birthday reminds us that we're moving on toward mortality.
I backed down on criticizing our stops, complimented my family on how great it was to spend four days with them, and I listened as our girls told us their thoughts. But instead of evaluating food, service and ports of call, they went for the big picture. The short version was "What's the point?"
So it came down to this: the broadest of questions. The meaning of life, for crying out loud!
I didn't really want to tell them what I believe to be the truth, that no one really knows and that it's a question many of us pursue right up to the grave. That we say that we know, but deep down all of us ask the same answerless question, and that's why the human race is so fascinating.
So instead, I gave them my three bullet points:
We're here, above ground, to do the most with what we have. By not squandering our gifts -- and every day is a gift -- we are bringing glory to what many people call "God," and that ultimately reflects back onto us.
We're here to make each other's lives better. An act of kindness is ultimately an act of self-love. An act of meanness will eventually circle around as a form of self-hatred. And we get to create our own circles.
We're here to enjoy every day, hour and second. (Earl Nightengale's thought goes something like this: a successful life is comprised of successful years, which of course breaks down into successful months, which, if you continue this long enough, breaks down to successful seconds.)
My yoga teacher calls it "being in the moment." That works for me.
I've always believed that teachers enjoy their craft because often, as the words roll out of their mouths, they are the ones doing the learning. My meaning-of-life lecture was one of those occasions.
They say having children keeps you young, because you're always looking at life through a set of fresh eyes, and constantly rediscovering the world. Having someone look to you for the great answers is a blessing.
Because when you're asked a question, you often have to think.
It also made me think of something else: Next time my birthday picture is taken, I think I'll keep my hands in my pockets.
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NICK SORTAL began playing 3-card "gut" and "Indian poker" on high school band trips, early training for his...
