Never too late my Norwegian ass.

In the early 90's I was the first guest speaker of the year at the G40+ Club in San Francisco. The crowd was capacity, over a hundred. It was a beautiful January day. I felt great, if a little tense, then as soon as I got my first laugh I was a goner. Ostensibly, I was there to talk about my glass painting career, but ham that I am, gave them "the works" and they loved it. Half the room crowded around me after the "performance," asking questions, introducing themselves, hugging me. Over and over I was proclaimed a combination of Steve Martin, Robin Williams and Spaulding Gray. Then, after every comparison, "But no, you really are just you!" I loved it.

I have never forgotten one man in particular. Using a cane he inched his way toward me through the crowd, finally reaching me with some difficulty, then steadying himself on my arm. In a whisper, with tears wetting his red cheeks, he said, "Thank you from the bottom of my heart. I'm eighty five years old now and it's way too late for my dream, but thank you for yours."

He spoke eloquently of how as a youth he had wanted to design theater and movie sets as a profession, but had been discouraged by his family. They'd hammered him about how unrealistic, stupid and "pansy" it was until he finally gave up.

"They were wrong," he said. "and I have spent my whole life knowing I missed it, and my god that just hurt so bad". Suddenly his voice turned furious. "I should have told them all to just FUCK OFF but I lacked the guts!"

I tried to think of something encouraging to say. Nothing came but tears. Everyone from Norman Vincent Peale to new age trance channelers blather about how, "IT'S NEVER TOO LATE ..."

BS.

Then he said to me, "What I say next may sound strange and please don't take it wrong if it does, but I want to say it because you helped me so much today. Hearing you talk made me happy in a way I did not expect. It is a very good thing to know that in some way you are living my dream for me. I mean, you are not doing theater sets, that's not what I mean, but you did what you felt in your heart. You kept your passion and held on to it no matter what terrible things happened to you. And I didn't. You made your art, and I gave up. And I don't know why your story should help me, I mean ... it's your success after all, not mine. But the odd thing is, it does, a lot. I mean, it really does. Thank you sir".

Later I caught a final glimpse of the old gentleman, in fedora and dark overcoat, moving slowly toward the door and into the late afternoon, and for a moment I walked with him, carefully choosing each step, rehearsing my own three-legged future, deeply moved by his honesty and grateful to the core that I had been bullheaded enough to keep going.

YES! --- It can be too late.

No matter what, do not let that happen to you! Find your special passion and never give up. Never, ever, ever give up. You will be amazed before you are half way through. The world responds to passion, doors open where you least expect them, and you will end up shaking your head like me and saying, "far out David, far out".

Go to Frames! Break Out of Frames

Click Here!