Writing it down

When I was in high school, my band teacher, Mr. Hoernemann, instructed our class to write a letter. "Take some time," he said, "to think about your lives. I want you to write a letter to you. I want you to write a letter about your goals; about what you want to accomplish by the time you graduate from Conant. Be realistic, but do not limit yourself in any way." Most of the students in class looked at each other, puzzled. "When you are done with the letter," Mr. Hoernemann continued, "I want you to seal it in an envelope." He walked up to each student and handed out letter sized envelopes. "Then I want you to address the letter, to yourself," he continued. "When you graduate, the letter will arrive in your mailbox. I promise, no matter where I am, I will get the letter to you."

Mr. Hoernemann was a good teacher. He seemed to love being a teacher, and he was well liked by nearly everyone. The assignment he gave us was not something out of the ordinary for him. He was always pushing his students in positive ways. He wanted kids to be their best. He wanted them to accomplish their goals. The letter was an exercise in setting and meeting goals.

I wrote my letter, sealed and addressed the envelope as instructed, and forgot about it. Until the day after my graduation. Mr. Hoernemann left our school a couple of years prior to my graduation, and I was not in band by the time I left. When the letter arrived, I recognized my handwriting, but did not put two and two together. I opened the letter, sat down and read my words, and realized I had failed. Failed at goal setting. Failed at realizing my potential. Failed at accomplishing anything I set out for myself several years prior.

I don't have the letter anymore. I cannot recall any of the words I wrote. I wish I still had it. It would be interesting to see, and reminisce about that time in my life. I remember I wrote that I would own a black Trans-Am and that I would be a successful competitive bodybuilder. I've never owned a Trans-Am, and my competitive bodybuilding years were peppered with steroid use (read: cheating), and lost dreams.

I'm not the kind of person who writes down his goals. Maybe it's because of this incident. I don't know. Maybe I should write a letter to my future self. My 50 year old-self. My 60 year-old self. Maybe I can make up for a failure from my youth.