You're born. You go to school. You get married. You have kids. You go to soccer games and piano recitals. Those kids get married and have kids. Then you die. What's the point?
Paraphrased, this comes right out of "Up in the Air," where Ryan Bingham (played by George Clooney) is called on to counsel his future brother-in-law, Jim, who on his wedding day gets cold feet.
This reminds me of a friend of mine who said eventually an interstellar missile will hit the earth, or our sun will die, and our planet will be lifeless, so what we do doesn't really matter. For example, he said, if the globe is warming, it doesn't matter if we do anything to slow down the warming because the same thing is going to happen eventually. Everything will be destroyed.
It matters, to me and, probably, to you. Unless we continue in some fashion to exist after death, which none of us can guarantee, it's all we have. And for now, for us, it's lots. If we're fortunate, it's lots of happiness, love, interesting occurrences, or whatever else we find that turns us on.
"Don't you forget it," says Virginia. "I'm depending on you."
She's right. How right she is, as I contemplate writing another law-related book instead of her life.
When I look back thirty years
I wonder how I got here.
I did not expect my future,
I did not plan it.
I knew the dreams I had were fiction,
professional basketball player,
Supreme Court justice,
father of six or seven.
My short-term goals were something less,
chosen just before each gentle turn
I charged with focus down the line.
Then something happened,
I shifted right, then left, then right again,
and I landed exactly
where I wish I had dreamed
I would be today.