It had been years since he’d last
been home. First, Jason went out of state to college. Then there was the
computer-programming job he landed after graduation. He stuck with it for a few
years, learning the ins and outs of the software industry. Then he joined a
couple friends in starting a company.
Together they rode the dot-com
bubble till it burst. They lost big in the Silicon Valley crash, but they
didn’t lose everything. A few years later they were back, stronger than before.
By the time he reached his mid-30s,
Jason was a millionaire (at least on paper). That wasn’t all that impressive in
the circles he frequented, but it made him a rock star back home.
Jason’s dirty little secret was that
he’d earned big, but he also spent big. His balance sheet looked impressive,
but he was chronically short on cash. Some months he had trouble making his
credit-card payments.
Then the news came that Jason’s
mother was sick. She was in the hospital: heart catheterization, possible
bypass surgery. He hopped the next flight home — first-class, using
frequent-flyer miles, of course — and found himself seated in a vinyl-covered
chair at the foot of his mother’s bed, watching the jagged, multi-colored lines
dance across the heart monitor.
His mother was glad to see him, and
he was glad to see her. “I’ve stayed away too long,” he confessed, with a sigh.
“I know,” she replied.
“I’ve done well for myself,” he
said, as if some justification were needed.
“I know that too. I’m proud of you.”
Then his mother asked the question
that stopped Jason in his tracks: “But are you happy?”
Jason realized, with a shudder, that
he didn’t know how to answer.
It’s a fictional story, but its details
are real enough. Lots of people today are chasing dreams of happiness so
furiously that the chase itself has become everything. The goal is like the
electric rabb
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