Tuesday 04 March 2025
During the past two years, the thoughts of travelling more and of experiencing more adventures and of assigning more time to create those memories not only have enthralled me—bewitching me—but also have redefined my life’s purpose. I wouldn’t call what I am feeling as a “mid-life crisis.” No, I am not insecure. I am not going through an existential emergency, needing to prove myself by buying a shiny red Corvette. Let’s face it, we are all dying. I do not want merely to exist but to live. And certainly, I am not waiting to die. I still have too many things to do! What I am feeling is an urgency to do activities, see places before I can’t—not by choice but by physical limitations. Eventually, there will come a day when I can’t go on that dream vacation, not because I lack the finances to go but because I am too frail to travel.
Life has become more valuable now since I turned 50 years old; even time itself has become more important. What have I been doing for over 50 years? Life is fragile. Life is fleeting. What I am most afraid of is missing out on all the things I dreamed of doing since I was a boy, fearing I am squandering time, concentration, resources, and health.
Knowing how much I desire to travel to Barcelona, Antonio Gaudi’s Barcelona—I have been talking about going there for almost thirty years! —a colleague simply asked, “What are you waiting for? Why haven’t you gone?” I couldn’t answer his questions. I was mute. Not one single excuse that I considered defending myself against him convinced me. And those sorry, lame cop-outs wouldn’t have persuaded him either. Why have I been denying myself? Why am I persecuting myself by those pitiful apologies for not going to Barcelona?
British heavy-metal band Iron Maiden’s song, “Wasted Years,” consumes me, more so now than when I first heard it in late summer/early fall 1986. Even as a largely unread, unsophisticated teenager, I sensed a deep meaning to the song. After the initial entrancement by the song’s iconic guitar riff, I wrestled with the meaning of the lyrics. A superficial critical analysis might conclude that the words might be platitudinous—and to be fair, they are truisms we have heard before—however, for a teenager of the 1980s, the lines were poignant, authentic, and fresh enough. The words were warnings from older, more mature men whom I respected. Iron Maiden was the epitome of 1980s heavy metal. All the metalheads admired them. Iron Maiden wrote songs about mythology, history, philosophy, and yes, even suggestive songs about the devil. Controversy sold records; they learned that much from Ozzy Osbourne.
Nonetheless, I felt as though lead singer Bruce Dickinson was imploring me personally. I felt as though he and co-lead guitarist Adrian Smith who wrote the lyrics and song were trying to teach me an important life lesson:
So, understand
Don’t waste your time always searching for those wasted years
Face up, make your stand
Realize you’re living in the golden years
According to the band, supposedly I was in my golden years. What was I doing with them? As an adolescent, I certainly wasn’t hearing this admonition anywhere else. I hadn’t yet discovered literature. I didn’t yet like reading books. My daily Catholic school religion classes weren’t giving me what I needed to hear; I wasn’t at all hearing my religion teachers imploring me to reflect more deeply. I relied exclusively on hard rock and heavy metal to teach me these life lessons.
Iron Maiden didn’t exactly follow the prevailing, more commercially successful trend of composing songs about “sex, drugs, and rock n’ roll;” and so, in their own way, Iron Maiden appeared groundbreaking for releasing “Wasted Years.” They grew older, becoming dissatisfied with and tired from touring annually; therefore, they were inspiring their listeners to become more reflective, like themselves, posing meaning of life questions. They seem to be asking, “What’s more to life than playing music live every year in front of thousands of fans?”
“What should you be doing, Danny?” they seemed to be asking me, too. At the time, I didn’t know the answers. How would a teenager Danny respond to such a question? Well, as middled-aged Danny, I should say, “Now, I will go to Barcelona. After driving a Ferrari, I need to drive a Lamborghini. I must experience that “holy shit” moment staring at Mount Everest from the famous Base Camp. I don’t need to climb it. I just would like to see it with my own eyes. I need to see da Vinci’s Last Supper before it completely fades away. I would enjoy eating sushi standing in front of Mount Fuji. I am determined to publish my Katyn memoir within the next year so that I can begin writing a children’s book. I excitedly anticipate when my oldest son will finish his post-graduate studies. I look forward to seeing my youngest son attend university. I can’t wait to celebrate my thirtieth wedding anniversary…. I need to start checking off items from my so-called 1,000 things to do before I die list!
Are Iron Maiden’s “Wasted Years” lyrics still hackneyed? Of course, they are. And I say this criticism as an avid and faithful Iron Maiden fan who has seen them perform numerous times, more than any other musical band I have also seen, and I expect to hear the band play “Wasted Years” every time they tour. On the other hand, since this blog isn’t the first time I have referenced and quoted lyrics from the song, therefore, “Wasted Years” can’t be as clichéd as my “Ph.D.” mind is insisting. And I don’ t think I am being sentimental either.
Lately, too, I have been reflecting upon the word “relevant.” After all, these global destinations, life achievements, and transformative experiences I am planning to attain, and savor are relevant to my ever-developing selfhood and personal satisfaction. The etymology of “relevant” reveals: “from stem of Latin relevare “to lessen, lighten,” hence “to help, assist; comfort, console.” As I am preparing the next set of blogs focusing on experiences that are relevant, meaningful to me, I have dubbed my so-called 1,000 places/things to see/do, not as “Danny’s Bucket List,” but “My Life List.”