sweet rewards

I went on a long run today, a necessary evil if I am to achieve my goal of completing a half-marathon in May. Part of what kept me going the entire 50 minutes were my thoughts of how I’d reward myself when I returned home. Thoughts of a warm shower and a hug from Gracie kept me moving through the cold March mist over the hills of Middle Road. And I got thinking about the ways that we reward ourselves for our accomplishments…

As many of you who are reading this know, in 2001 Michael and I spent three weeks traveling around Italy. One day in the midst of our adventures we found ourselves in a supermarket where a 1983 bottle of Dom Perignon at a reasonable price found my brother. Anyone who knows Michael knows that he can’t resist an impulse if his life depended on it, especially not on a great deal on a great bottle of champagne that would be a great souvenir from a great trip to Italy. He bought the champagne and we spent much of the rest of our day deciding on what would be the perfect occasion for him to crack that bottle. He was hoping for the perfect milestone. I was just hoping I’d be there to drink some too! Okay, that was selfish of me.

Shortly after our trip Michael got engaged, then married. He moved to Massachusetts and became Dean of Students at a prestigious boys high school. Then he got a job as an assistant principal in a public school, and then became a principal at another public high school. He met his true love, Dani (after a divorce), got engaged and got married. Then he continued to move up the ladder in his career. He became essentially an assistant superintendent in another school district. Finally, last week, he became a superintendent of schools, a feat that I know he’s dreamed of since starting out on the school administration path. Eight years and just as many milestones (probably even more than that), and every time he reached a new goal I heard my brother say, “Maybe I’ll open that bottle of Dom now.” But he never has. Instead, he decides that he will open it the next time he moves up another rung on the ladder. And he keeps moving up. But that bottle just continues to sit there.

Part of me fears that when Michael finally does open that bottle the champagne inside is going to taste like shit because he waited too damn long to open it! Part of me feels like he should have opened it and drank it right away because with all that he’s achieved, the happy events he’s encountered, and the money he’s made since the purchase of that bottle, he could have bought a new one every time! Part of me thinks he shouldn’t hold onto it for too long because, you know what they say, “You can’t take it with you.”

But then again, maybe he shouldn’t open it. In as much as the thought of a hot shower keeps me running in the cold, that stupid bottle of fizzy fermented grape juice has become a symbol for all that Michael aspires to achieve and all that he already has. It stands for the idea that there’s more to come no matter how far he’s come and keeps him moving forward, moving ahead, and moving up.

I don’t know if I’ll be there if and when he ever cracks that bottle…I’m just glad I was there when it all started in that supermarket in Rome.