The image is inspired by one of the most enduring legends in
American music.
It depicts Robert Johnson sitting alone at a
lonely Mississippi crossroads late at night, guitar in hand. According to blues
folklore, Johnson met a mysterious stranger at such a crossroads, who tuned his
guitar and, in exchange for his soul, granted him extraordinary musical talent.
Although there is no historical evidence that this ever happened, the story
became inseparable from Johnson's legacy because of his astonishing skill, his
mysterious life, and his death at just 27 years old.
The crossroads legend symbolizes more than a supernatural
bargain. It has become a metaphor for the price of greatness, ambition,
sacrifice, and the difficult choices that define a person's life. Whether
viewed as myth, metaphor, or Southern folklore, it helped make Robert Johnson
one of the most influential figures in the history of the blues, inspiring
generations of musicians from Eric Clapton and Keith
Richards to Jimi Hendrix.
The picture captures that legendary moment, not as
documented history, but as one of America's greatest musical myths, where
talent, mystery, and the unknown meet at a lonely crossroads under the
moonlight.
The Crossroads of Choice
Over the years, I have spent a great deal of time observing
people. Not as a psychologist or philosopher, but as a husband, father, worker,
employer, and student of life. The older I get, the less certain I become that
any single explanation can account for why some people succeed while others
struggle. We are often told that the environment determines outcomes.
Certainly, the environment matters. Poverty matters. Education matters. Family
matters. Opportunity matters. I have no trouble acknowledging any of that.
But I have also seen too many exceptions. I grew up
poor. By all accounts, I should have chosen the easier road like my father
before me. I worked from the age of ten delivering newspapers, mowing lawns,
and doing whatever jobs I could find. Later came night school, learning a
trade, and building a career. Looking back, many of those decisions involved
choosing discomfort today for a reward that would not arrive for years.
Why? I honestly do not know. Economists call it
delayed gratification. Psychologists speak of self-control. Philosophers debate
free will. Yet none of these explanations seems entirely
satisfying. Recently, I began thinking about the difference between
present value and future value. At every crossroads in life, there appears
to be a choice. One road offers comfort now. The other offers the possibility
of something greater later. The second road usually requires sacrifice,
patience, discipline, and a measure of uncertainty. There are no guarantees.
Yet some people consistently choose the "future value
over the present value." I struggle to understand why. I always
thought, I am no one special, I am average, yet if I can do it, make a good
life, well, anyway I can. Consider work, when I was growing up, it was
common for young people to have jobs. We delivered newspapers, bagged
groceries, swept floors, and mowed yards. The pay was not much, but perhaps the
money was not the most important lesson. We learned that effort preceded reward.
We learned that if we wanted something, we often had to wait and work for it. I
had to mow 50 lawns at $2.00 per lawn at age 10 to buy a $100 bicycle. I
had to deliver newspapers every day, seven days a week, for two months to
buy that $100.00 bike. Today, many of those opportunities no longer exist
or are far less common. Whether that matters, I do not know. But I wonder if
those small experiences helped teach delayed gratification at an early age.
Then I think of my own family. My wife and her brother
were raised by the same parents, in the same home, under the same roof. Yet
their outcomes could not be more different. My wife worked throughout high
school, became disciplined with money, attended college, and built a successful
life. Her brother struggled repeatedly and lives in poverty today. My
sister babysat at the age of 16, I think, but I do not remember her ever
having a job when we were kids, and we are only 18 months apart in age.
Today, she is poor, making bad decisions all her life, and I have made it on a
high school education to millionaire status, plus some. Same parents,
same environment. Different outcomes.
Then I think of my twins. Both were born premature. My
son Jacob struggled more as an infant and spent his entire K-12 education under
an Individualized Education Program. My daughter Abigail developed more easily
in her early years. Different challenges. Different paths. Yet both
graduated from college. Both became successful adults. Both worked from high
school onward. Both had summer jobs in high school, and I made sure of
that. Again, the simple explanations begin to break down. Environment
clearly matters. Family clearly matters. Opportunity clearly matters. But they
do not seem to explain everything. This leaves me with an uncomfortable
conclusion. There appears to be something else at work. I call it
choice. Not because I can define it. Not because I can measure it. Not
because I fully understand it. In fact, the more I study it, the more
elusive it becomes.
We can measure income, test scores, attendance, crime rates,
and educational attainment. We can measure almost everything surrounding a
choice. We cannot measure the choice itself. At some point, every person
arrives at a crossroads. Present value or future value. Comfort now or
sacrifice now for something greater later. Why one person turns left while
another turns right remains one of life’s greatest mysteries. I do not
claim to have the answer. I merely offer the observation. Perhaps the
greatest question is not why some people fail. Perhaps the greater
question is why some people willingly choose hardship today in pursuit of a
future they cannot yet see.
That is the question I continue to wrestle with.
