Because of the type of high school I attended, we would have regularly scheduled Retreats, weekends of heavy prayer, learning how to be better people, and lots of self-reflection. Along with group and individual prayer and sermons, one of the exercises was to take a lined, elongated, index card of a particular size and, by listing things you intend to have accomplished at certain ages, make a Plan for Life.

In retrospect, there probably really was no belief that at the end of your life you would take out that card and verify that you had successfully followed the Plan unless you were the dullest of people. Rather, it was, most probably, more to send us on our way in life with at least a basic plan of what we would aim for, and, knowing that life has too many twists and turns to actually follow a plan, they wanted us to notice the difference and act accordingly to remain successful no matter what is thrown in the way.

Now I have reached an age when I can look back and see every moment at which a decision was made that led my life in the direction it took. I can see in hindsight, for example, each in a series of unrelated, major and minor, reasoned or foolish, mature and immature decisions that led me to stand at the exit of the parking lot at which I did my rollerblading and having to choose going right to a nearby bar for post workout beer, or to the left to get home to change and go buy a frying pan to lend to my ex who had called earlier to ask if I had one he could borrow for that evening’s dinner he was preparing for a date in case doing that favor might re-ignite a flame I wished had not gone out.

That was not to be.

Nothing in any plan written by me at that very moment would have included any of the events turning to the right set in motion that led me to the basement of society, then back up, and beyond.

It was a definite moment. The majority of what happened before had already gone so far from the Plan for Life, or, to be honest, any plan I may have made at any time, and what was to follow could not have been planned for in any stretch of the imagination.

Never got the boat, the cute, historic house in a nice ocean side town where I live with my other half, Me a cartoonist he a whatever it would have been, the vacation home, but life has been a ride that, looking back, had moments to set off any chain of infinite possibilities depending on turning right or turning left.

And the decision to turn to the right, regardless of what could have happened had I turned to the left, but now never will, was a monumental decision leading to others, not always with the best choices being made, and in retrospect I know what decision led to what, and how much control I had of my own future ,now past and how much was timing and opportunity.

Nothing is as it was supposed to be, and that is a good thing if even limited to just the people I have met and with whom I worked, marched, sang, acted, protested, mourned, celebrated, it turns out to have been and will most likely continue to be an interesting trip.

Sometimes, the surprises, although initially seeming to be walls, simply have you choose a different route and all that comes after.

I first read this poem in high school, and it grabbed me. My future was open and there were roads ahead and choices.

I may be physically back in my home state, close to where I grew up, but who is actually here is not the one who chose a road some 40 years ago, but who has come from all the experiences and people met in those years.

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Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

                  Robert Frost