It would take no more than a cursory glance in my direction to tell that I am a man who prefers hedonism to health. I enjoy food, both "good" and "bad". I love gin and whisky, cheese and other animal fats, carbs, and until a little over a year ago I absolutely loved to smoke. And I do mean loved it. I have since become that most hypocritical of non-smokers (the one who lectures smokers on the folly of their bad habits), mainly because I quit a day late and a dollar short and will suffer the consequences of my live today pay later philosophy until the day I die. At the tender age of forty one I became someone who will be on medication for the rest of his life, and this medication will only somewhat arrest the decay of my lungs, not repair or relieve my condition in any way. The news could have been far worse. I was basically told that I can live a long and somewhat normal life without my current condition getting worse. So I don't get to burn out after all. I will fade away. And perhaps have a very long time to dwell on it. But I don't have cancer. Which, to be honest, after twenty years of smoking, one could argue was easily deserved.
So I dumped smoking to avoid death and possibly divorce (my wife's parents only recently both passed away from maladies brought on or worsened by their smoking), which led me to also evaluate some of the other things that affect my health, specifically food and alcohol. To my way of thinking, and I stand by this implicitly, a life lived in the confines of prohibition is no life at all. If there were two lines in the great before, one for those who wanted to live long and live without, and one for those who were okay with the idea that a slab of foie gras and an early death didn't sound so bad, I would clearly be lining up to kill the duck. I could of course come to regret this point of view, wishing as the light was slowly dimming, that I'd eaten more oat bran and thought more sensibly about drugs in college, so I could be here for just a bit longer. But I like to think that I'll look back and think my road was worth walking, and that the price to walk it was money well spent.
What I don't want is to wither. To live a life where the indulgences of youth (and middle age) destroy the years I am standing on this earth. Die a few years early, who fucking cares. Death comes to us all and when it does, the moments of regret for me will be few. In many ways, I made my life full and big and worthy in the wake of my bad decisions. But lethargy, depression, immobility, slowly watching the things in life you thought you'd have time for someday become things you consciously know you will never be able to do, even though you will be around to make time for it: this makes me remember how much I love vegetables and fruits, and that it is not actually a sacrifice at all to choose them over ice cream and potato chips.
I'm not there yet. I am a person who makes change slowly, but once the seed is planted, eventually it will sprout and grow. Jake ate. Elwood had no soul on his plate. Jake died too soon. Elwood lived long enough to make the most unwarranted sequel in movie history. Somewhere in there is a place where whisky and wheat grass and red meat and kale, work in harmony to bring health and happiness to someone who finds so much of his happiness in food and drink. It is not about going without. It's about making room for all, because I love them all and I believe that a life lived with joy and the inclusion of things that bring us joy, is a healthy life, and a life lived long enough.
The trick is to find the right mix of hedonist and puritan so that life stays rich and joyful but doesn't end or devolve too soon. If I am wrong and I find myself at the end too soon, I hope my loved ones will not begrudge me that one last sip of whisky, and not judge me too harshly for knowing the right thing to do but not doing it (let's face it, we all know what to do: eat sensibly and exercise -- this basic tenant has not, nor will it ever, change). I'm sure I will wish in those last moments that we could all stay together forever. What I hope is to not not look back and wish we would have spent our time together indulging our joy despite our impending demise.
I wish for us all a life well lived, with many moments of recklessness and repression of common sense, sewn together by just enough desire for self preservation to keep suffering at bay. But not so much as to keep the best and the worst of the world out. Never so much as that.
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