That thing you do [a birthday story]

It's my birthday today which brings up so many feelings: I have one less year to do all the things. (Sadness!) Did I accomplish enough this year? (Regret!) Look at all I've got planned for this year. (Excitement!) What a beautiful day. (Gratefulness!) And on and on. 

One summer night...

...when I was 26 years old, I attended a lecture by the famous graphic designer Milton Glaser at the School of Visual Arts in New York City. (If you don't know him, he's most famous for the "I heart NY" campaign logo.) He was a great speaker and during his talk he told a story about when he was a little boy he saw a paper bag with a drawing of a bird on it and thought to himself "that's what I want to do when I grow up." Not that he wanted to draw birds on paper bags but there was something about the mystery of "what's in the bag" that intrigued him. 

After his lecture I was so inspired that I went up to meet him. He was very gracious and then asked me:

"So, what do you do?"

"I'm still trying to figure that out," I answered because I really had no idea what I did.

I had done a lot of things like writing and filmmaking and art and acting but I didn't know how it was all going to fit into a "thing that I did." So, I was honest in a way that only someone in their 20s can be. Milton Glaser looked at me and said,

"Sometimes trying to figure it out becomes your life's work." 

And inside I screamed, "No!" Because I didn't want my life's work to only be about trying to figure it out.

For many years after that...

... I felt like I was living with the curse of Milton Glaser. I did many things but I didn't know if they were ever going to add up to that one THING I DID. 

It didn't happen all in one day. But about 30 years ago, little by little, so slowly I could barely feel it, the pieces started falling into place while I was doing other things like producing videos and TV commercials and studying film directing and acting in plays. 

Until one day...

... I realized I had broken the curse, if it ever was a curse. I finally knew what I was. I had a name for what I did.

In June 2020, Milton Glaser died and when I read his obituary in The New York Times, it mentioned that story of the drawing of the bird on the bag. Apparently, that was a story Glaser told all the time. But that day when I heard it, he told the story as if he were telling it for the first time and would never tell it again because that story was just for me.

I realize now that that's what I coach people to do: to tell their story as if they've never told it before, and will never tell it again, because it's for right now, and just for you. 

What's your one story that's for right now, for one time only, for this one listener?