When leaving my car, especially in a mall carpark, I frequently turn around and note the scene. I’m sure many an onlooker mutters, “Oh dear. He’s walking backwards!” Why this frequent hindsight? I want to see the scene I’ll see when I return, searching for my car. I want to see the future.
In encounters with older folk, I often say, “Tell me about the first car you bought. Any regrets you still recall?” And invariably, they are happy to reminisce with the wisdom that comes from hindsight. And their hindsight becomes my foresight. Being in a retirement village, this is no big deal. I’m not buying another car; the one I drive now is likely to be ok till the dead end.
But imagine this. At 25 (one third of my age), you ask me about the first car I bought. My answer: “It was an Opel Rekord, and I bought it in about 1978. I was working in Tongaat; I used the expertise of a very dear uncle who lived in my hometown of Pietermaritzburg. Oh. One important thing.” And I break off.
“Go on,” you are mildly impatient. The young!
“I’d been working for about three years. I waited till I had enough cash. I don’t remember who the seller was, but I certainly knew the buyer.”
And there you have it. My hindsight becomes your foresight. Have those conversations. Almost always, others have stood where you are.
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