Regrets

“I don’t regret anything I’ve ever done in life, any choice I’ve made. But, I’m consumed with regret for the things I didn’t do, the choices I didn’t make, the things I didn’t say. We spend so much time being afraid of failure, afraid of rejection. But, regret is the thing we should fear most. Failure is an answer. Rejection is an answer. Regret is an eternal question you will never have the answer to. “What if…” “If only…” “I wonder what would have…” You will never, never know, and it will haunt you for the rest of your days.”

Trevor Noah, Born a Crime

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Reflecting on this quote, I realize that we each face myriad choices in confronting life, but every one of us deals with them in dissimilar ways. Diverse, individual styles and techniques that each of us develop, acquire or simply have thrust upon us in our evolvement as human beings. There is probably an unlimited range of approaches along the continuum that would certainly cover “supremely confident/ cocksure/brash” at one end of the spectrum down to “timid/unsure/scared-out-of-one’s-own-wits” at the other. In between are combinations or varied degrees of those extremes.

Wherever one lies on the scale, each station along the way represents just one more way that an individual chooses to cope with life—and, the very different and sometimes extraordinary demands of living that life. So, during the course of negotiating our way, we are confronted with choices. Sometimes, they are big and boisterous choices, pounding-on-our-door choices—and, sometimes, they are nuanced, off-to-the-side choices that can almost go unnoticed if we are distracted by the loud din that is the daily background of our lives.

But, more than likely, the decisions that we are asked to make during the course of our lives will be fairly obvious:

• Should I ask that girl out?
• (At a later stage) Should I ask that girl to marry me?
• What kind of profession should I take up?
• Is this the right college for me?
• Should I take this job right now?
• And, if you actually have options) Should I take job A or job B?
• I just saw something take place that was very wrong; should I do something about it? No, I mean it was very, very, very, wrong. (THIS DOES NOT REQUIRE MAKING A CHOICE, JUST A CONVICTION TO ACT…)

As the author Richard Flanagan noted in one of his books:“A happy man has no past, while an unhappy man has nothing else.” I have to truthfully admit that I’m one of those lucky men whose past regrets are minor, leaving me quite happy with my life.

One example of a minor regret resulted from an event that took place in 8th grade gym class. I got yelled at and reamed out in front of all my classmates by Coach Davies. My crime? Doing a “skin-the-cat” maneuver on the climbing ropes up at the ceiling of the gymnasium. Not sure why I even did it, considering that I hate heights and always have. At any rate, Coach screamed and said: “Fasano, are you crazy? Get the hell down from there!” Not having the supreme confidence that I possess today, as a callow 13-year old, I henceforth assumed that the coach didn’t like me. No, I was pretty sure he hated me!

When it came time to try out for the freshman baseball team (coached by Jack Davies), I hid behind the excuse of an after school job at the Acme Supermarket to pass up the opportunity. Not saying that I was God’s gift to baseball, but I was fairly coordinated and probably a little bit above average. Problem was that we had many fine, young baseball players in Madison at the time, so who knows how it would have turned out. The thing is that I didn’t even try.

Fast forward about a decade and my brother-in-law John calls and says that they need a fill in for his softball team the next night. Seems a few of their players were out of town. It just so happened that John’s team would be competing against a squad that included the aformentioned Coach Davies, as well as his acknowledged, all-time favorite student athlete, Doug Hale.

I’ll cut right to the chase here: bottom of the last inning, our team leading by two runs. Yours truly is patrolling right field. Doug Hale is up with the bases loaded, two outs, batting lefty. Third pitch and Hale blasts it to right center field. I’m playing straight up and take off immediately, running simultaneously both to my right and deeper. Galloping as fast as I can, at the last second I stick my glove up over my head, leap, take a tumble and backhand the ball. Just like that, game over, we win in exciting fashion. If I could put together a highlight reel of baseball accomplishments, it would have to basically consist of this one, particular, amazing play— repeated about ten times.

Needless to say, when I came in off the field, I was roundly praised by teammates and opponents alike. But, the clincher—Coach Davies came over to our bench, patted me on the back and said: “Great catch, Frank. Well done. You know, I always wondered why you never came out for the baseball team.” So, that was a bit of regret right there.

A second example of a minor regret? Like a lot of young, high-school guys, in 1962 I was just one more, aspiring guitar player. I had started looking into acquiring a solid-body electric guitar to replace my acoustic, hollow-body. The acoustic had ‘f-holes” for sound and needed an electronic “pick-up” attached to the strings near the bridge if you wanted to go electric. I had saved some money from my paper route and finally had enough to make a purchase. I’d been reading reviews in the music magazines, did some research and finally decided to invest in a Fender Stratocaster. My dad and I went down to Veit’s Music in Livingston, NJ, I test-drove the Strat for a while, plunked down my money and became the proud owner (for awhile) of what would go on to become perhaps the most iconic guitar in music history. Of course, I didn’t know it at the time; I just knew that Fender guitars were then starting to become really popular.

It just so happened that I was in a band at that point with a really talented guitar player (and classmate) Tony Y. He was the lead guitarist and I played rhythm guitar. I had paid roughly $225 for my Stratocaster, while Tony’s Fender Jazzmaster cost about $350. My bandmate used to gently laud it over me that he had the “better” (more expensive, really) guitar.

Well, after awhile, and probably as early as the 70’s and 80’s, Jazzmasters weren’t in demand at all from people who knew guitars. Strats, on the other hand, with their funky sound, three pick-ups, tremolo bar, two cutaways and body-contoured shape, were embraced by many top guitarists—Jimi Hendrix, Stevie Ray Vaughn, Keith Richards, Jeff Beck, Jimmy Page, Eric Clapton, George Harrison to name a few..

I was in several bands in high school and thoroughly appreciated having such a great guitar to play. It was always a source of enjoyment and relaxation for me. As time went on, I invested in a new acoustic 12-string and then a new Martin dreadnought. I spent more time using these guitars, playing folk songs with the kids and then as part of a folk group at church. The trusty Strat, loved and respected, became almost forgotten during those years and lay inactive in the closet. Eventually, with a growing family— and like most young families always in need of a few extra bucks to pay bills— I traded in the Strat for some cash.

I found that Guitar Trader in Red Bank, NJ was a reputable dealer always on the lookout for classic guitars. And, yes, the Stratocaster had indeed become a classic by that time. I made an appointment and brought this precious instrument down to Red Bank. GT turned out to be a very serious operation. They took the guitar apart, made sure that the pick-ups were original, as well as checking for any damage. They came back with an offer of $810. I was happy to get the cash, which amounted to almost four times what I had originally paid for the guitar 19 years earlier.

Just for kicks, I called Guitar Trader a few years later, mentioned my trade in and asked what they might charge for my old guitar. $2,400-$2,500 was the answer. And, over the years, as so many well-known guitarists have embraced this excellent instrument, it’s value has only gone up and up exponentially. A Strat from the early 60’s like mine, in mint or extremely good condition, could command over $30,000 today.

So, I regret not having the foresight to hold on to the Strat, instead of trading it in to pay a few bills. But, I regret it even more on a personal level: my oldest son, Michael, who was just eight years old when I sold the guitar, would go on to become a fine guitarist in his own right, way beyond what his old man could ever do. And, I would love to have passed on the prized Strat to someone with the talent to take full advantage of the instrument’s potential. So, that’s a bit of a regret. Quite a bit, actually.

Moving on to the last of my minor regrets that I will cite: The Mini was a small economy car produced from 1959 to 2000 by BMC, an English company. It featured a space-saving design, taking advantage of a transverse engine and front wheel drive. The car was very popular and became an icon in British culture. In 2002, BMW, the new owners of the Mini, introduced the Mini Cooper into the US market. As advertised, it was a new, spunkier, four-cylinder version with seating for four. I happened to be visiting my son Josh up in Providence right around that time. And, coming out of a restaurant after having Easter brunch, we both spotted one of the new Minis. I immediately fell in love with it, and vowed to eventually acquire one of these sporty, little cars.

That day finally came in August of 2007. I visited the Mini dealer in Morristown, NJ, took the car out for a test drive and was sold. Of course, I had already been pretty much pre-sold. Thus began my 12-year relationship with the little Mini Cooper S. It was brash, spunky, turbo-charged and fun to drive. I jokingly referred to the purchase of the Mini as the “poor man’s version of a mid-life crisis.” That’s because guys much more affluent than I was would have been buying Beemers. As it was, perhaps for me it was a bit later than a mid-life crisis—unless I somehow expected to make it to the ripe, old age of 120! I’ve had a lot of good moments with the car, and then some downsides, particularly the older it got.

The Mini was fairly reliable in the first years. Occasional repairs here and there. Parts tended to be more expensive, but the costs were within reason. About ten years in, it started happening. $900 for an ignition coil. Then, a year later, $1,000 for crankcase and brake repair. Then, a few months later $400 for repair caused by mouse damage to the wiring. Then, a month later, $450 for a new alternator.

I knew I should have pulled the plug and gotten rid of the car, and quite frankly I was getting tired of having to call a tow truck to rescue me. But, for some reason—inertia, human nature and the thought that I’d just made the last repair necessary for awhile caused me to hesitate. I also figured that since this was a second car and I was only going to drive it on short trips around town, there was no need to take on new car payments. That turned out to be the wrong decision, or actually a non-decision. Things kept happening and I was becoming a frequent visitor to my local mechanic’s shop. They got to know me so well that I was on their list of contacts, and they’d answer my phone calls with: “Hi Frank, how’s it going? So, what’s wrong with the Mini today?”

After I traded in the little car, I went back and reviewed the maintenance costs over the life of the vehicle. It averaged about $1,000 a year on Mini servicing. But, the last year cost me $3,000—$2,000 of it in the last six months! The worst of the repairs came at just over 100,000 miles, so maybe that should have been the trigger. While not the most major of regrets, I certainly wish that I had unloaded the Mini before the inevitable Niagara of repairs began flowing.

So, regrets, I’ve had a few, but as I’ve said almost too few to mention. I suppose that the key for me before making a decision was to measure the pros and cons before moving ahead. Logical advice. How many of us do it? I know that I didn’t always follow through. And, when I did, it didn’t always work out. But, I think my feeling was that if I did due diligence, then in my own mind I could be held forever blameless in regard to a particular decision. Oh, and probably the most important part of my decision making for at least the last 50 years has been to run it past my better half. Cathy always has a sense of what’s right and what’s wrong, what makes sense and what could turn into a potentially bad decision. The ultimate fail safe plan then is to have a partner whose judgement you trust implicitly. Now, if I had only listened to her about not trading in the Strat and getting rid of the Mini sooner, then I would have virtually no regrets at all today.

So, if you were to try something and fail, that’s one thing. And, if you try something and are rejected, that’s another. However, to look back over your life and regret a missed opportunity that you let pass by can definitely haunt you forever. What we never want to do, young or old, but particularly the young, is to give up prematurely on our dreams—the things that we think about in the quiet, contemplative times. The places that we see ourselves going. The excitement that stirs within us when we look into the future and picture what we might be capable of accomplishing. The great actor, John Barrymore once said that a man was not old until regrets took the place of his dreams. So, we must hold on to our dreams for as long as we can. Otherwise, we may end up with an unfortunate result—what the poet Whittier warned: “Of all sad words of mouth or pen, the saddest are these: it might have been.”

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