RE-PLACING

“HARD TO REPLACE” for $200.
Who is Alex Trebeck?

It says something about the enduring nature, the near treasured place this thing called “Jeopardy” holds in our culture that the host seems to be irreplaceable. Of course, Alex Trebeck is woven into the fabric of the show, like that ominous little tune that plays while the contestants face “Final Jeopardy”.

Okay. Let’s play a game.

Fill in the blank: There will never be another _______________.

Apparently, there are those people whose mark is so deep and indelible that their place in history stops with them—they can’t be re-placed. The obvious names that come to mind for me: Mister Rogers, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Billy Graham, John Lennon, Nora Ephron, and Ted Lasso (who’s still here; for now).

Of course they will be remembered. Maybe thats goes with being irreplaceable—being remembered.

“No one is indispensable,” I remember our grade school basketball coach telling us, as a team-building lesson. He used this analogy: he had a glass of water and asked one of the guys to stick his finger in the water. “Now remove it.” He held up the glass and asked us if anyone could see a void left by the removal of the finger. I started to mention that while there wasn’t a finger-shaped hole in the water, the overall water level had gone down—i.e. there was an impact. But, I thought better of it. (I was trying to win a spot on the team which meant getting a jersey and riding the bus to out-of-town games. Smartassery could only hurt my chances which were already slim.)

Now that I think about it, maybe being dispensable isn’t the same as being replaceable. Maybe being remembered is better than being irreplaceable.

It’s kind of fun to imagine that when it comes to being a husband, father and a Pops, I might could have a degree of immortality or at least irreplaceability. I’ve often joked that when I ride off into the sunset (so to speak) I want to leave My Amazing-Missus financially comfortable, but I don’t want to leave enough so that her next husband could buy a bigger sailboat than I had—like the one in the background of this picture of our beautiful TRUST ME II. I suppose that’s my misguided path to irreplaceability.

HERE’S MY AMAZING MISSUS LITERALLY BATTENING DOWN THE HATCHES

Other than light bulbs, a carton of milk that’s turned south, etc., is anything really replaceable? I bought a new pair of shoes that were exactly the same size, same design, and same color as a pair I’ve worn for years. Still when I go to the closet to slip on my shoes, invariably I go for the old pair. Those shoes and my feet have a special relationship. They’ve become good friends. It’s like they’ve become one.

How about a of chunk of time; can that be replaced? You know, like the chunk we’ve lost to the pandemic. I don’t know for sure. I’m trying to, as they say, “make up for lost time”.

It’s strange but I think quarantine has made me a better steward of life. The time can’t be replaced, but in a way my days are richer now. I’m paying more attention. I’m savoring moments. I’m cherishing experiences. I hope I’m listening more, loving more, seeing more, feeling more. I hope I’m more open-minded, more liberal (open to the new and willing to discard old traditional dogmas.)

Maybe it’s okay to say of the “irreplaceable”: He, she, or it is no Alex Trebeck, but... And then we find a way to breath and put one foot in front of the other and bet it all on the Daily Double.