Better Late Than Dead

One of my blog readers emailed me and asked, “So, what’s the meaning of “Better Late than Dead?”

Thanks for the question. When I was six I was getting ready for my first day of Kindergarten. I was nervous. I was shy around others. I was scared of the unknown.

My mom walked me to the bus stop. She sensed my apprehension and held my hand. She said, “Everyone’s scared of their first day of anything new. I got a job driving buses when I was fifteen. It was my first job. I was terrified. I had never driven a car. I was scared of buses. I thought everyone would make fun of me. But they gave me the bus keys and suddenly everything felt right.” The story didn’t help. I felt worse.

We got to the bus stop. There were kids and their moms standing and waiting. One of the kids was puking. Another kid was punching a kid who was crying. One girl had a hard time breathing and her mom was trying to get her to relax and inhale. I panicked. I looked to my mom. She said, “See, you’re not the only one.”

I said, “Mom, none of your advice is helping. I don’t feel any better.”

She said, “Don’t worry, Brooks. There’s no hurry. Sometimes things don’t make sense till later in life. Better late than dead.”