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I was having coffee with a close friend, Mike, talking about getting older together. We looked around the shop and guessed the ages of people standing in line. Were they younger or older than us? It took an evaluation of at least a dozen customers before we found one who might have been born before 1945, our magic year.
Mike said, “My body has changed so much over the last few years, but I feel like I’m exactly the same guy inside I’ve always been.”
I don’t consider Mike brilliant, or even particularly gifted, but I thought his statement was profound.
There are two Dons, the outside me and the inside me.
People who don’t know me judge who I am by the outside Don.
Close friends can joke with me about what the outside Don is becoming, but they have a love and appreciation for the inside Don.
The big question is, do I care too much about the outside me? Occasionally, when I meet an acquaintance I have not seen for several years, I think they are saying to themselves, “What in the hell happened to Don?” In reality, they are probably just trying to think of my name.
No, the real Don is the inside me. I like what Mike said. He is the same wonderful guy I’ve known for 20 years. In fact, for all of us, the good stuff is housed on our insides.