In the winter 2001 Bulletin, my classmate Tom De Lancey made a wry contribution to our class notes column "on behalf of the masses who are not general partner, vice president, director of orthopedics, astronaut, congressman, etc." Tom went on to describe his own convoluted but colorful, even courageous, path through life. Who can look at such a classmate and not consider him a success? More importantly, who among us has the right to define success for another?

Although I do hold the title of vice president, I've never thought of it as the pinnacle of success or even the definition of sufficient progress to date. It is a temporal title, and one easily removed, something I learned when I was laid off from a previous job as a VP. Being a VP is, at best, part of what I do, but it is not who I am. Some of the best advice I ever received is never to confuse who I am with what I do for a living.

Although I dislike the characterization and the stereotypical associations, middle age is often a time for reflection on what has been accomplished, what may yet be accomplished and the roads not traveled. The fact is, many of us first contemplated these same questions 30 years ago while enjoying, enduring or otherwise experiencing Exeter. It was almost axiomatic that those of us growing up in the late '60s and early '70s-and many of us are still working on it-questioned the goals the Establishment set for us, the career paths our parents envisioned and the higher-echelon roles society dangled before us.

So what is this success we once snubbed and yet so desperately seek? Is it material wealth? Self-actualization? Power? Public service? Family? Wisdom? Or is it some role each of us defines uniquely, blending elements of these and other tangible and intangible goals?

I have spent the last 20 years of my career in human resources, dispensing advice freely on the right course of action for others while, ironically, struggling at times to identify my own. More than anything, what I have learned about success has come not from listening to conventional wisdom or the suggestions of others, but from simply observing people: those who are happy and content with their lives and those who never find satisfaction. It is one thing to need never to reach for a goal, to settle for whatever comes along, to live the "unexamined life." It is quite another to strive while accepting the realities of one's physical, mental and temporal limitations. What I've learned is that those who are happiest are those who have goals, who look forward to the future with hungry anticipation.

Perhaps the most dramatic examples I have seen have been retiring employees. No matter whether they are salaried or hourly, physician or housekeeper, rich or broke, the almost frighteningly accurate predictive factor in employees' longevity after retirement has been their attitude going into it. Almost without exception, these individuals fall into one of two categories: those who are looking forward to retirement and those who dread it. The former have plans. They also tend to be healthier, happier and more active. The latter are depressed even before they retire, wondering how they will fill their last days. Depression in the elderly has been tied to a decrease in longevity. It is one thing to read such statistics; it is quite another to encounter a parade of individuals who fall so sharply into the two categories that one can predict (and subsequently observe) who shall live and who shall die.

These are critical lessons for those of us still active in our careers and, perhaps more importantly, for those just embarking on theirs. Success comes in many shapes. It cannot be universally defined as a job title, financial success or children. Each of us must write our own definition, and then let it evolve over time. If we define happiness and success in terms of what we must have or be, they can be taken from us readily.

Today, I am a success, and if you disagree, I don't care. My children and my wife (albeit my second one) love me, my career seems to be going well, and I sing and play at least a passable guitar in a local Celtic band. These roles bring me pleasure, and I hope will continue to do so for many years to come. They are not the sum total of my goals or my experiences. I do not expect that I have identified all I want to achieve. I will, however, try to choose wisely, for our goals become our life. Change them and we change our lives.

Only when we accept who and where we are, define where we want to go, and set out on the journey can we sustain our souls and fulfill our lives. Enjoy the now, savor the past, anticipate the future. Along the way, forgive yourself and others. When the end comes, you will be able to look back and smile.

-D. Douglas Dorman '71

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