My old friend Charlie stopped by last night.
“Dude, you missed Woodstock.”
We had not seen each other in fifty years, and this was the very first thing that came to his mind.
But it was vintage Charlie.
It did not surprise me that Charlie had not changed but it was surprising to see how little. His hair still hung below his belt, he wore the same old tie-dye t-shirt and his tattered bell-bottom blue jeans shrieked 1969.
But no one changes that little.
What struck me was…, Charlie was always a bit of a stoner and most of the time he was not really there – but something about him seemed more not there than usual.
“Are you a ghost?” I asked.
“I’m not sure,” he said.
I reached out. Trying to touch him was like grasping fog. There was less of him than there ever was.
“Yep, you’re a ghost.”
The revelation didn’t phase him.
“Do you regret missing Woodstock?” he asked.
“Not at all.”
“Do you regret anything else?”
I have been thinking about regrets lately and maybe it is why the ghost of Charlie came to visit.
There are things I have done that I genuinely regret.
There are things I probably should regret but don’t and there are things I will come to regret some day.
But of all these things, what I regret the most are the things I should have done but never did: the opportunities missed, the ideals compromised and the focus spent on the wrong things.
“So I am Scrooge and you are the ghost of Marley?”
“I’m Charlie,” he said as his eyes tracked an imaginary fly, “not Marley.” It was one of his ticks. He did that when he was utterly baffled – which happened a lot.
I snapped my fingers.
“Focus,” I told him, “why are you here?”
“Oh,” he said, “I am here to tell you that you are going to be visited by three possible futures. Each represented by a path of regret that you didn’t take.”
And with that…
Poof! Charlie vanished.
Poof again!
Before me stood The Ghost of Opportunities Not Missed and I have to say, this ghost was an exquisitely dapper version of myself.
“Wow!” I said, “love the outfit and is that watch a Rolex?”
The ghost of future me sniffed in contempt. “Cartier,” he said.
“Apparently I jumped on the Tech Wave early, huh?”
“You did.”
“How early?”
“Pong,” the ghost said.
Pong was the first successful video game. It was nothing more than a white dot that bounced around a television screen but in 1972, it sold millions.
“I invented Pong?” I asked.
“You did and then you leaped into Apple stock and bailed out just in time, then got back in. You cruised through Microsoft’s up and downs and eventually bankrolled Amazon, Facebook, Google and Twitter. Now all of social media is yours.”
“Ooooo, I must be rich!”
“And powerful,” the ghost gloated.
And there sat my future me at a gleaming mahogany desk in the corner office of a penthouse suit. The skyline of Seattle twinkled in the background.
“So you want to buy an election!” my future me exclaimed into the phone.
The phone buzzed softly in reply.
“How are you going to pay for that?”
“zzz”
“Vlad, you know I love you but your credit is no good.”
“zzz”
“Why? Because it is the end of the line for you. I just sold the Russian election to one of your opponents.”
“zzz”
“Who? That would be telling.”
I am not sure I liked that future me.
And Poof! He was gone.
Poof ! The Ghost of Values Not Compromised appeared.
This one looked a lot like Charlie and my future me was dressed to match. His bushy beard and long yellowing hair spoke for a man who let the world go one way while he stayed true to himself and went another.
“So what’s your story?” I asked.
“I am the ghost of the future you who never compromised his ideals.”
“Now this I can get into,” I told him. “The last future me had no integrity whatsoever.”
“Be careful what you wish for,” he said as he pointed a long bony fingers at the future me sitting in front of his computer.
“Read,” his hollow voice commanded.
I inched closer to see what my future me was typing.
YOU COMMIE FASCIST SCUMBAG, MAY YOU ROT IN HELL.
“OMG! He’s typing into my uncle’s Phil’s Facebook page. What the heck? Phil is the sweetest guy in the world. How could you say that to him?”
“He may be sweet,“ the ghostly voice said, “but he ‘liked’ a Facebook photo. It was a picture of a friend playing golf.”
“What is wrong with that?”
“Golf is an elitist sport played primarily by the ruling class.”
“So?”
“You commie fascist scumbag….”
“Was I really that radical in college?”
“Ask Charlie.”
And Poof! Thankfully, he was gone.
Poof! The last ghost of future me appeared. The one who focused on all the right things.
He looked exactly like me. He even wore the clothes I was wearing. He was staring at my laptop and there on the screen was the work in progress that I have abandoned all too many times.
“Uh…,” he muttered to himself, “just have to check Facebook.”
“NOO!” I screamed, “social media is NOT the right thing to focus on! It’s a worthless distraction!”
Poof!
“Wake up!”
“What?”
“You are having a nightmare,” my wife told me.
“I guess, but it was so real.”
“You were screaming something about Facebook.”
“Good grief!”
“Did you sign up for Facebook again?”
“I did,” I confessed, “there was a writing group I wanted to join.”
“Social media is poison; you know that.”
“Sorry,” I told her and I truly was.
Signing up for Facebook is among my greatest of all regrets. It is something you know you shouldn’t do but you do anyway.
“Go back to sleep,” she said.
“I need to settle down first,” I told her.
To calm myself, I walked to the bedroom window and gazed out into the moonlight – and there among the ancient oaks, the shadow of a young man, who was never really there, slowly melted into the night.
“Thanks Charlie,” I whispered.
Like the smile of the Cheshire cat, his hand was the last thing to disappear and as it vanished, it flashed a peace sign.
Almost Iowa 
Hmm. I just wrote a piece about an old regret, and now, playing catch up, I find this. I think you’ve put your finger(s) on it. There seems to be a sweet spot in life, a compromise between woulda coulda shoulda and the heck with it.
And I too remember the advent of Pong and its mindless fascination. I figured it would mean the end of pinball tables and foosball, and it damn near was.
Nice!
I think we could all use a visit from those ghosts….it might help us cope with our regrets!
Gave me a good laugh. Nothing wrong with tie-dye!
Unless you wear the same shirt for fifty years. 🙂
No Woodstock in England, but we did have Pong, and computers, and blindfold chess, and compromised values and all… and regrets. Love this post.
England had its Isle of Wight Festival. Tickets are still available for this year’s event. Don’t think I will go to that one either. 🙂
How I was mesmerized by Pong! Then Asteroids and Pac-man. Then I went on a date with a true game addict and was cured(I wish). I only regret not buying that Apple stock.
It’s good to get to that stage where you realize that you’re generally okay with the paths you took that led to where you are in the present, cause parallel universes just get more confusing than trying to keep up with FB.
“Game addicts” I have known a few. I still know a few. It is a serious addiction, almost as bad as Facebook. 🙂
Video games got too complicated after Pong 🙂 (Although I did master the fine art of Mariokart pretty good).
The #1 Rule of video games: Never play against a kid; you will lose. I learned that with Pong.
Excellent story, Greg. Facebook? You? One by one my icons fall.
I am a recovering Facebook addict, which means I have computers with Facebook on them stashed around the house. Old smartphones and tablets work best.
🙄
Fascinating. Well, you wouldn’t be right where you are now without having made that long series of choices, including the wrong ones and the regretful ones. It’s probably not so bad and think of all the choices ahead! 🙂 You’re still the master of your destiny.
I might be the master of my destiny but whoever is navigating and steering this ship might want to lay off the grog. 🙂
Ha! But what fun would that be?
I would have read this earlier today, Greg, but I was lost on Facebook. I wonder why I didn’t see you?
Personally, I consider myself meaningful, though opinions vary. The thing is, you rarely see anything meaningful on Facebook. It might explain things.
Greg, so glad you woke up! A nightmare like that hangs on! Woodstock (1969), tie/dyed shirts, and long hair are in my rear-view mirror. Except for the music! Remember Creedence Clear Water? Green River? Take me back there! 🤣 Christine
My favorite concert back in the day was by Commander Cody and His Lost Planet Airmen. Remember them?
I listened to their music to refresh my memory! Country & Boogie Woogie! Mostly in the 70s, right? Great performers! Love the piano pieces. Guess I mostly favored rock n’ roll back then! Those were my dancing days! 🤣
Back on the dark side again Guido ? Face Book will suck the rot right out of you sole. Yes you can use it to fix your shoes. Other than that it is not much good. Whoa did I say that out loud ! Sorry it was the best I could do on the spur of the moment. The family Robinson robot was busy and besides your name is not Will Robinson. So far I have resisted the urges to go back to fb. However I have no control over the stupid stuff my future self might do. So please be prepared to warn me too late for anything I might will be doing. Now when was I ? I hope it was not Willoughby.
Where to begin? 🙂
I’ve got to do a piece on the family Robinson robot. I used to love the way he waved his arms about and shrieked, WARNING! WARNING! DANGER! DANGER!
Just what do you mean ‘used to’ ? ! ? Please don’t make me send Stan…
Ah, nothing like a stoned and wasted Marley character to get me on-board with the story. I think you’re fine the way you are. With your twisted view of life, I’m not sure it would work if you were the richest man in the world.
I am willing to give it a try though. 🙂
Have I mentioned my husband went to Woodstock? He was home on leave, drove over, took a look around and ….. left! Said it wasn’t his scene. The greatest music event of all time and he left. I swear if I had known that…. I never would have married him. I was 5 at the time, and unable to attend.
Some things are better to have gone to than to go to. 🙂
Having yesterday published a post involving Dickens novels, I like your topic here. I’m especially fond of The Ghost of Values Not Compromised, the ghost many people seem to be unaware of. Just saying…
The week before last, I published an essay titled, When Virtue Becomes Vice. That future me was channeling that phenomena. Values are vital and should not be tossed away because of expedience, but then for some old hippies, values function like a strait jacket.
So true. You gotta let life change you as you go along or you’ll end up an unhappy grump yelling at the kids to get off your lawn.
Hey!
Those kids have no right to be on my lawn. Same with the freak’n rabbits and gophers, and whose this Mother Nature character who keeps encouraging them!!
Uh-oh, I fear a visit by the ghosts of lawn maintenance.
See! You are just where you should be!
I actually did sign up for Facebook again. 😦 😦 😦
I really liked this story. It was funny and had a perfect combination of historical hints (which I love).
And just having a soft spot for A Christmas Carol helps, haha!
You liked that bit about Pong, huh? 🙂 🙂 🙂
Oh, the joy of watching a white dot bounce around a screen!! It was like “nothing will ever be better than this!” in 1972.
Hahaha – as someone who hadn’t been born by 1972, I’m still intrigued by the Popcorn Song and how it was made back in the day. Pong and the Popcorn Song – THE FUTURE WAS NIGH!