photograph by lisey kina / dreamstime
If you happen to be reading this column in April, the title is not an April Fool’s gag. I happen to love the arrival of April, so much that the month essentially marks a new year — by one definition or another — in my world. This has much to do with the start of the Major League Baseball season, the St. Louis Cardinals purifying my oxygen intake on a daily basis for the next six months (hopefully seven months). But with spring (finally!) in the air, there’s a newness I’ve come to embrace, one year after another.
And I’m emphasizing new here in 2023. I recently bench-pressed my body weight. This isn’t a really big deal, as I’m not a really big guy. But it’s been more than two decades since I did any weightlifting as part of my exercise regimen, and it feels good, muscles swelling in the right way. My body tends to stiffen the next day more than it did in, say, 2003, but again, it’s a tolerable price for what I consider an important health component as I climb into my 50s. I’m not ready for shirtless pics on Instagram just yet, but perhaps I’ll get there.
I recently took up rock-climbing — the indoor variety — with my wife. A couple of important lessons on properly tying and securing a rope from the good folks at Memphis Rox and my inner Spider-Man was unleashed. It turns out my skills as a belayer exceed those I show on a wall, but nonetheless, gazing down at Sharon from 45 feet makes my heart pump in a way it hasn’t ever before. It’s a new thrill (that word again). Lower-back stiffness the next day? A price the dedicated belayer is willing to pay.
I recently decided to complete a customized collection of 100 football cards: one for each player who made the NFL’s Centennial Team (announced in 2019). I’ve had a few Roger Staubach cards for years. Same for Walter Payton and Lawrence Taylor. But Mel Hein? Marion Motley and Sammy Baugh? I’ve been strolling the eBay marketplace a few weeks now, and 83 of those cards are safely gathered on a shelf in my home office. Seventeen new/old cards to go. And I’ll get there.
What is it about starting something new that tends to freeze us in our tracks? Especially as the years mount, “tried and true” feels safe and soothes our behavior mechanism. But in the age of mindfulness, I’m convinced more than ever that starting something, making a first attempt . . . is therapy for the soul. Our minds are rewarded — and somewhat surprised — by the newness, and our bodies then benefit with the exploration. (I get rather pumped when I land another one of those football cards, so there is a physical component to even smallish new tasks.)
Memphis has endured a tough stretch recently, whether you define it as three months, six months, or twelve. I won’t rub the wound by reviewing the hits this community has taken. It’s time — today — to start anew, however you choose to make that start. But don’t feel pressure, and certainly don’t stress, if the start requires a few more days, or even months. May makes a great “new year” month, too. So does June or October. The start is more about you than the date on the calendar.
Which brings us back to April, the “birthday” month for this very magazine. I’ve been on the masthead for 31 years now, and I’ve always enjoyed adding a new volume number to the cover. (Here’s to XLVIII.) “Memphis” has been on the cover, of course, every single issue now for nearly a half-century. But what a different Memphis we are today than we were 31 years ago, or “way back” in 1976 when this venture started. Every issue has delivered something new, something Memphians haven’t seen before, something that, we hope, opens a new window for seeing the city we call home.
I love April. I love feeling new. I love starting a climb, or lift, or collection I’ve never experienced before. Here’s hoping you find the same booster, be it this month or on your own distinctive timeline. And keep an eye out for me at the ballpark nearest you. It’s that oxygen thing and baseball. I crave it more than ever.
