As a Christmas present to my in-laws, I got tickets to see Diana Ross perform at the Kennedy Center. This concert was this past Saturday night, so a bit after Christmas, but it was still quite a treat!
Ms. Ross sang a bunch of her classic songs, and managed to wear five different dresses over the course of an hour and 15 minutes.
My mother-in-law was thrilled during it all, jumping up to stand and clap, while my father in-law was more mutedly entertained, as he tends to be. We were sitting in the first tier of the Concert Hall, where you can look down onto the Orchestra seats, and people were actually running up to the stage to try to touch Ms. Ross’ hand during, “Reach Out and Touch.”
“I’ve never seen people act a monkey like this at the Kennedy Center!” My spouse remarked.
Neither had I, but I felt it worth mentioning, “I bet you’ll do the same thing when we see Beyoncé in concert in 40 years.”
He didn’t say anything. Which means he most definitely will act a monkey.
But all of this got me thinking about longevity. I do basically think of Diana Ross as Beyoncé of 50 years ago. (Or maybe it’s 60? It being 2020 is really playing with my head.) She is still beautiful, and her voice is still amazing. She still has that hair that goes everywhere and she flips back with the flick of a wrist. She said she is 75, the same age as my in-laws.
In the elevator as we were leaving, someone said, “I’m 75, and I don’t look that good!”
To which someone else replied, “Well, if you had that much money, I’m sure you would!”
While wealth most certain can help in terms of health and fitness (assuming one uses it for those purposes), I think there’s something else that keeps us going.
“This isn’t a job to me, being up here,” Ms. Ross said into the microphone as her encore ended. “It is truly a pleasure to perform for you.”
I think longevity comes from love, loving what you do. Sure, money might give one the freedom to pursue a low-paying love, so maybe the woman in the elevator was right.
But I don’t think so. I think loving the people you do it for counts just as much.
My love for writing will allow me a certain immortality. I’ll live forever in the pages of my work, even if they go out of print someday. My love for finance will do the same: the clients I work with will empower others, who will empower others, for generations.
With writing and business coaching, I’m reaching out and touching somebody’s [metaphorical] hand, and making the world a better place, because I can.