Risk

by Tom Peters

5-22-2021

The interlacing outcomes generated by decisions and fate has intrigued me for a long time. We all make decisions of consequence every day. A decision is made with various unknowns present. So what makes the decision risky? Is there a sense of danger? Are the stakes higher? Is the unknown darker? I don’t often ask myself these questions but I do tend to slow down my decision making when I sense risk is present. Of course, once we are fortunate enough to live into our 70s, that ‘sensor’ is more finely tuned. Risky decisions made during younger years are intertwined with some lifesaving fate I appreciate more and more as time moves on. The risk of allowing myself to be drafted as opposed to fleeing to Canada played itself out with a number of fateful twists in my favor. A spinal meningitis outbreak in the barracks next to mine took two young soldiers’ lives; I watch as too many infantry comrades pile into a Huey transport copter to flee a hot battlefield, all dead as the helicopter crashes and explodes struggling to clear a thick line of trees. I wanted to leave just as bad, it looked wrong somehow, had I calibrated the risk and settle on the next copter?

Marriage is a risk that haunts me. My first marriage felt risky because I wasn’t sure I knew Patricia. We had only known each other a year when I was drafted. My gut said wait until I did my two years in the service, my heart said a loyal wife will wait. We eloped, raised three children and divorced after 16 years. Afterwards, battling loneliness, depression and probably PTSD (although unheard of in the mid-80s) I married again. Carol and I were in no shape mentally and emotionally to get married. I knew I felt I had made a risky mistake on our honeymoon. I think we both suffered for 6 years before ending our legal bind.

A risk move I’m proud of came in 1997, with money still pretty tight, I retired after 30 years at the steel mill with a $956 a month pension. I moved west and never looked back. It paid off career-wise although. After moving from job to job, I settled in at Santa Monica College as a full time professor.

Single life seemed just fine in southern California. I dated and went about my life in a carefree manner. I settled into the idea that marriage was not for me. Until I met JoAn. Being fully aware of the risks it took me 7 years to reach a decision and marry a third time. Our marriage is one of those special bonds you witness in couples you may might meet and think 1 + 1 = 3, defying logical math. I was 57 and she was 42 when our daughter Ellie was born. Ellie, now 15 is an independent, fun-loving young woman that shares a dark thought with me. JoAn’s heart attack when Ellie was in pre-school left us both with the dread of losing her.

Now, I find myself retired again. And again risk plays a prominent role in the first year. Will I have enough money? Will I find fulfillment? Well next month will mark a year and thanks to the teachers’ union for an amazing pension plan, social security and 403b and 459b retirement funds; I feel grateful and hopeful.

Risks can be dangerous or cathartic. It calls for us to slow down if possible and carefully weigh the consequences. Risks invite us into action, and it’s that action on our part that makes all the difference.