Do you ever wonder what the history books are going to say about our lives long after we are gone? That question came about after I was laying here awake [shocking!] and began thinking of the history of the resort where I work. It started its life as a super-exclusive, Southern getaway for the rich and/or famous to blow their money. When it was conceptualized in the cyber boom, that was fantastic and conceivable. But as all Roaring 20’s must, 2008 brought an end to the pornographic anyone-&-everyone-is-a-celebrity and America’s eagerness to give their money to such lost causes. 

And what should have been a quick reaction to immediately save as many jobs as possible and appeal to less exclusive clientele and perhaps just those who can keep the lights on, simply wasn’t. The resort was part of new ownership when the financial drought hit. Personally speaking, my house was worth less than half in December 2008 what it has been that summer when I bought it. I know, once again an illustration of my magical ability to pick the worst case scenario before it even appears. The resort was now part of the leading conglomerate and it was pretty much, “Vegas will tell you what to do and until then don’t do anything unless we tell you.” And then the line goes silent because Vegas is dealing with Vegas and the Southern beauty housing 4,000 of the 76,000 employees was not priority. They had to pull the entire family out of poverty–news copters were hovering at the headquarters to film the moment the company had to fold (It didn’t.)–so the kid away at boarding school didn’t really matter.  

And while that’s a great story about the company and industry (and by all means I feel Leo DiCaprio should get the lead in the film), it’s not the behind the scenes struggle of my resort or this place I call home. I wish someone had stepped in with big enough balls to do what we wanted down here without Mommy and Daddy’s permission. A leader should have been born in that year. But is the Gulf Coast so laid back and easy going that it’s contagious? Even if you aren’t from here, stepping up and breaking free of the crowd–you can do that without drawing attention to yourself you know!–is like a concept no one gets. Hell, maybe that’s why I stick around! 

Before I get off track and say things to get me fired, let me back off and make this less business and more about me because that’s really how this crazy thought train got started. Who is going to remember the tiny, normal details and attitudes about our day and age long after it is gone? Are you going to document that by the end of 2015 you could walk anywhere in America and in a sea of people they were all looking down at their phones? 

My 37th birthday is eight weeks away. I won’t be mid-30’s; I’ll undeniably be upper-30’s. What happened to my people? We came up during a time cordless phones were about as connected as you were and when you went out for the night, the only people who knew where you were and what you did were with you. If you wanted all 20 of your pals to know you met a hot guy or drank too much, they had to be there to find out. Nowadays, 600+ people have that info immediately with one selfie. Is history going to fully tell the story of our disconnect? Suicide rates? Bullying? Obesity? Stress addiction? Cancer? 

I guess that’s up to the writers like me. And the task seems so daunting when added to getting through a day in this mess, we table that for later.