…I left something irreplaceable in cab 804. Will you see if you can find it?

A few Fridays ago my husband was gone for the evening and I inherited full control of the remote. Turning on the TV, I perused my watchlist and queued up the first episode of Taxi. By the fourth note of the Taxi theme song, some kind of bizarre Hulu voodoo occurred. I found myself having…I don’t know…a transcendental experience?

I felt like I was in our first home, curled up in the corner of our pseudo swanky sectional. It was fall of 1978 and I was twenty-something. Suddenly I felt euphoric with that “happy butterflies in your stomach” sensation. This trance-like state persisted until I heard a woman say, “Goodnight Mr. Walters”.

Was the show that good? Did I have an unresolved crush on Alex Reiger? Did I eat something iffy for dinner? I watched the second episode hoping that sense of euphoria would return. Indeed it did return and continued to do so during the third, fourth and fifth episodes.

I watched the entire first season and realized that Taxi triggered a memory of the consistent bliss I felt in my twenties.

Where had that bliss gone?

What am I doing wrong that keeps bliss at bay?

Some subscribe to the notion that you can “follow your bliss”.  Others say “ignorance is bliss”.  I believe “bliss is youth’s companion”.  Bliss requires novelty, options, and to some extent, a lot of time ahead-all conditions tied to youth. Ah, yet another thing wasted on the young! Well, not wasted exactly, but definitely more attainable.

At twenty-something I was just beginning to experience “real” life. Marriage and owning a home was new. Earning a promotion was new. Holding my children moments after their birth was definitely novel. My opportunities seemed limitless and choices offered wiggle room. If I made a bad decision I had time ahead to rectify the situation.   With so much time ahead I could put some choices on the back burner.

Today, novelty’s hard to come by. That’s not to say I don’t seek it-I do. But new exploits tend to deepen or build on previous experience.  My opportunities seem limited. Every choice feels loaded with potentially irreversible consequence because I no longer have sixty years in front of me to correct a bad decision.

Bliss, while no longer a constant companion, drops by on occasion. It came this summer while watching the sunset during a live performance of Adagio for Strings. It appears when I manage to perfectly photograph a second in time. Recently I was bliss-drenched when my two year old grandson spontaneously hugged me as we played on the floor.

But this is what I’ve realized. It’s lovely when bliss drops by, but better yet is the constant companionship of experience, joy, gratitude and memories. Mr. De Palma, stop scouring cab 804-I did replace what I left behind.

What’s a boomer to do?  Watch a few episodes of a show from your twenties. Maybe, just maybe you will connect with memories from your own days of bliss.