To Be First
First is a word, a status, a moniker bundled with meaning. It connotes something different for each of us, but also strikes a theme that is common to all of us. An ordinal number, we learn in elementary math, that gives something or someone a place...first, second, third...twentieth. We live in a culture crazed with “first.” First prize...the blue ribbon attached to everything from cherry pies at the county fair to Olympians careening down mountains on razor-thin blades. We cram our kids with the notion that first is best; and we create criteria for most-prized “firsts”: “First one to clean up these toys gets a treat!” “First across the finish line gets a medal!” “First in your class gets to make a speech!” “First to make a deal gets the house!” We clamor after the gleaming trophy of first place...train for it, deprive ourselves to get it, lose sleep over it, envy it,
and applaud it. First is a quest that orders all other priorities.
A hunger for first is not necessarily a bad thing. History nods a reverent thank you to the first to explore new lands, to the adventurous firsts who charted new territories and cut trails for us. How about the brave and selfless firsts who storm battle fronts and lay down on fields...the sacrificial giants. It’s a good thing to reflect on the tireless firsts...the ones who win votes, march for peace and equality, find cures. Noble firsts inspire dreams, fuel our imaginations, and spur us on to valiant activity.
But what of the not-firsts...the second-place-ers...the thirty-fifth-in-line-ers? In the marathon of people chasing first, how many actually get to be first? How many kids get to be first-string-ers? Really...how many win first prize, make first team, get the full ride, become the first-round draft pick? How many of us are first at anything...first in line for promotion...first to close the deal.
First can be fleeting. What if we are the first to fail?
And then there are the hidden firsts, the small-carat jewels that sparkle brightly and fit perfectly on our fingers: the first edition, the first hushed snowfall, the first day of summer, the first cry of newborn life. These are the firsts we don’t have to aim for, jockey for, race for, or step on someone to grasp. They just come to us, floating on the wind like dandelion seeds, or twirling helicopter seeds from tall oaks. We can catch them if we’re paying attention...if we’re game for walking...no...strolling the lesser-known backroads of life. We might even see the familiar
in a new, first light.
What about the games, the psychological tests that begin with “Say the first thing that comes to mind.”? Somehow this exercise, this pouring out of firsts, shapes the picture of our beginnings... our earliest firsts. And all the firsts along the way force us into new shapes and set our course: first steps, first words, first love, first betrayal, first loss. These are the firsts we’re stuck with, beautiful and terrible. What we do with them, what we learn from them, well...it’s everything.
But what if you and I could remake first? What if all our living redefines its value? Can you imagine? To exalt these things: be the first to hold a shaky hand; be someone’s memory of the first person who really listened; be the first to believe, the first to pray. Could you be among the first, the bold and the brave, in a generation of skeptics, naysayers and conformists? Could you be the one, the first to see the positive in a sea of negativity? I dare you. I dare me. Jesus Christ flipped “first” on its tail when he said, “The first shall be last and the last shall be first.” And the world has be squinting and wrestling to grasp the truth in it, or rolling their eyes and walking away ever since. What we choose to do with first really matters.
I think redefining first will come slowly, with practice, like all newly-formed habits. Artists, dancers, musicians...boy, they put in the time. They sweat and savor the honing of skills, like athletes building strong muscles and increasing agility. Perhaps first making is not so arduous. The coursework for students involves a slow progression through the stages of noticing, appreciating, becoming courageous, standing up, standing out, and finally living the high life of contentment. Fair-warning: these fields of study don’t come with accolades, scholarships, memberships, or millions. But these graduates truly are the brave, adventurous firsts. They are skilled at spotting sadness in someone’s eyes. They are experts in asking questions, like “How are you...really?” They cherish being the first to hear good news, or being the first cheerleader for a
down-and-out-er. Their major is seeing beyond what the world calls minor.
Remaking first will also require some unlearning, some careful choosing. What are the firsts that mean the most? This is where I must enroll in the school of discovery, and discard the gaudy, glittering firsts for those of purest gold. Then I will fearlessly stand up and shout “Pick me! Pick me! I want to be first!” Maybe I will be misunderstood. But its okay, really...because I will know.
I will know what it means to be first.
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