David Loehmann

I am not a person of any particular importance or note. To quote Mark Twain, 'It is better to be a young June bug than an aging bird of paradise.' I am no longer a young June bug and my status as a bird of paradise is in serious doubt. Nevertheless, as we all do, I have a story to tell.

I am one of those people who, when asked as a child what I wanted to be when I grew up replied, 'I don't know.' That is still the case. At this point I'd better find out soon as there are not too many years left for me. I worry about this all the time, but not too much.

My life started out simply and became more complicated with the number of years I passed through. I've had many different careers starting with military service after high school, a runway model at major department stores in Los Angeles, a paralegal, legislative assistant for the General Counsel of the Governor's Office of Pennsylvania, a network administrator at a law firm, finally as a sales representative at a large cable corporation.

One thing I do know, I want to write. I have always wanted that. After many years of making sure I had a job that would cover the mortgage, allow me to buy an expensive car, have a sterling wardrobe collection, eat at better restaurants, buy this, buy that, consume this, spend that, it occurred to me how empty my life had become. I began hearing in the back of my mind the words to Peggy Lee's song, 'Is That All There is?'

Now I'm looking forward to the future. Retirement is close at hand. Now I know what it is I want to do. I want to sit back and watch everyone else scampering around chasing elusive dreams, buying those expensive cars, eating at better restaurants believing that acquiring those things is the most important aspect of their lives until they too start hearing Peggy Lee. Then they'll come up on the porch, sit down next to me, we'll look at each other and say 'Is that all there is?' Then we'll raise our Blue Moon beer bottles (with a slice of orange on the top) give a toast and talk about really interesting stuff, like what we'll do tomorrow or what we won't do tomorrow. I can hardly wait!