How to Never Grow Old
Allowing yourself to become intellectually dead is a choice
“I just paid $3,000 to miss my kid’s first birthday!”
The day was October 6th, 2015. The place was a random hotel lobby in Costa Rica. I’d flown there from Spain expecting to attend a hearing in my feeble attempt to get back the $250,000 my business partner’s dad had stolen from me half a decade prior. It was my fourth trip in as many years. I couldn’t believe my attorney was now telling me I’d need to make it a fifth as the hearing had been canceled an hour before I was set to take the stand.
“How’s this so complicated?” I snapped. “The dude changed the deed of my property with an eraser and pencil and sold it out from under me. I’ve got a football team of witnesses ready to go. He’s tried to bribe judges in front of other judges to drop the case!”
“You knew this would be a mess,” my dad who’d traveled from the US to meet me said in a surprisingly soft tone. He then shook my attorney’s hand, thanked him for his time, and turned to me and said, “Let’s go. There’s something I need to talk to you about.”
All the time and money I’d lost traveling to get here.
Having to watch my son blow out his first candle on video.
The hard reminder that I’d never see those $250,000.
