On July 20, 1969, Neil Armstrong set foot on the surface of the moon.
Moments later, the American astronaut turned on his radio and made an eleven-word address.
That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.
Back on earth, my father was watching all of this from a TV set. He was days away from his 9th birthday. And he was transfixed.
The next frontier had been reached. For the first time, a human had left footprints somewhere beyond this planet. Life had fundamentally changed.
This sense of wonder has remained with my father for decades.
While he didn’t seek to become an astronaut himself, my father has remained amazed by the night sky. As an adult, he traveled to the upper reaches of Sweden to view the northern lights. And when the signature frontiers of my generation – wireless Internet and the smartphone – were released, my father was one of the earliest adopters of each.
I was a teenager when those technological advances took hold. I should have been as eager as my father to traverse the next frontier.
But I wasn’t.
I had little trust of wireless connections, preferring the familiarity of the Ethernet cords that had sustained my browsing habits for years. And I saw little point for a smartphone when I my flip phone fit neatly in my pocket.
It was clear that my next frontier would not match my father’s.
In 1804, Meriwether Lewis and William Clark set out on a grand expedition.
The fledgling United States had just purchased nearly a million square miles of land from the French. But neither party had set foot in much of it. So, the U.S. government commissioned Lewis and Clark’s expedition to learn more about what it had purchased.
The men convened a traveling party, which headed up the Missouri River from its mouth to its headwaters. Then the group crossed through the mountains of present-day Montana and Idaho before following the Columbia River to the Pacific Ocean. After a winter on what’s presently the Oregon coast, Lewis and Clark returned east to report their findings to the government.
The Lewis and Clark Expedition quickly became the stuff of legend. At the time of the journey, Kentucky and Ohio were considered the American frontier. But Lewis and Clark proved that the next frontier — a vaster, more stunning stretch of land — was out there for the claiming. And in the ensuing decades, thousands of pioneers set out to do just that.
Soon enough, settlers dotted the land from coast to coast. Farms, ranches, roads, and towns filled the wilderness. The frontier became the mainstream.
And once it did, we set our collective sights on frontiers elsewhere. First to territories in the middle of the ocean or up by the Arctic Circle. Then to the moon and stars. And then finally to the wonders of technology.
Putting a stake in the ground became the American ethos. And Lewis and Clark made it all possible.
Still, there’s an alternative explanation for the expedition that started it all. Perhaps Lewis and Clark were not visionary. Maybe they were just beneficiaries of good fortune.
You see, this expedition was not exactly a prudent one. A group of 40 people blindly headed off into a wilderness fraught with untold dangers.
Unpredictable weather, wild animals, and legions of native tribes dotted the land they were traversing. There was no way to fully anticipate encounters with any of them, and there was no way to tell when those encounters might lead to death.
Incredibly, Lewis and Clark only lost one member of their party over the course of the expedition – and that loss was caused by a medical emergency. But it’s nearly impossible to chalk the low casualty account up to anything but luck.
This point has resonated with me ever since I learned about the Lewis and Clark expedition in school. While others are captivated by the new horizons the quest unlocked, I find myself wondering what could have gone wrong along the way.
Risk reduction, you see, is my preferred frontier. Much like an insurance advisor, I’m passionate about reducing as many bad outcomes as possible.
I’m the one looking for a handrail at the vista point. I’m the one who buckles my seat belt as I readjust my SUV in a parking spot. I’m the one who obsesses over my posture as the plane takes off and lands.
So no, I wouldn’t be cut out for a trek through the wilderness. Or a trip to the moon.
I wouldn’t be keen on connecting to an early-stage Wi-Fi signal. Or purchasing the first few models of the iPhone.
From where I sit, it just wouldn’t be sensible.
Yet, there are still frontiers I yearn to explore.
They’re just on a different dimension.
Do you drink a lot of soda?
The comment from my dental hygienist seemed innocuous enough. I nodded affirmatively.
I can tell, she replied. It might be having an impact on your teeth.
My mind immediately went to the worst-case scenarios. Were a host of cavity fillings in my future? Root canals? Implants?
I was determined to avoid these fates. So, drastic changes were needed.
I’d given up most fast food a year earlier and suffered no ill effects. Maybe I could do the same with beverages.
So, I cut bait with all sugary drinks. I said goodbye to Dr Pepper and sweet tea. I started taking my coffee black and turning down offers for lemonade.
And I felt the difference almost immediately.
I dropped 10 pounds in a matter of weeks. I was no longer feeling bloated or jittery. And the dental hygienist stopped giving me grief.
Risk reduction was transforming my life.
I repeated the trick a few years later. One day in early January, I gave up alcohol for good.
At the time, I was in business school – an environment with its share of boozy social functions. I knew that flipping the switch would be difficult in this season of life. And that abstaining could even be costly to my post-graduation prospects.
But I remembered the effect the sugary drink ban had on my health. Wouldn’t an alcohol ban also work wonders?
It has. And I remain sober to this day.
These cutbacks have defined my personal frontier. Removing McDonalds, Coca-Cola, and Jack Daniels from my life has transformed my body and detoxed my mind. Although I’m making my world of indulgences smaller, I’m truly better for the changes.
And yet, I’m left with a question each time I make a cutback. What’s my next frontier?
Until recently, it was caffeine. Even without soda in my arsenal, I still spent many mornings hopped up on black coffee or iced tea. But I’ve succeeded in kicking that habit as well.
So, now what? Do I eliminate sweets? Swearing? Something else?
I’m running out of vices to rid myself of. And that’s problematic.
It seems that frontiers are not infinite. Whether we’re expanding our horizons or reducing our holdings, there’s only so far to go.
I suppose I’ll need to make peace with that. Someday, when I’ve rid myself of the cupcakes and the dirty words, I’ll need to find acceptance with where I am. Just as others did after taming the wilderness, walking on the moon, or unveiling the iPhone.
Perhaps this represents our next frontier. Maybe our destiny is to be where our feet are, once we’re we done looking at what’s outward and inward.
I welcome this exploration – in a bit.
I have a few more vices to knock out first.