May 3, 2022 4 min read

During my lifetime, I’ve had clear objectives that included bold statements directed toward helping my fellow man or leaving the world just a little better than I found it. Other objectives have been less worldly in nature and directed toward ensuring that my family and friends are insulated from some of the horrendous challenges that life can deal out to us on a daily basis.

As a child I grabbed onto anything that could create distinction, that might allow me to be considered relevant at some level, and also to provide service to others. Once, in my early 50s, at a wake/viewing of a neighbor in my hometown, a location I had vacated some 32 years earlier, a small, aged woman walked up to me, articulated my name with a question mark at the end, and when I confirmed her suspicions, she smiled and said, “You were the best paperboy we ever had.”

By then my list of recognizable personal achievements could have included teaching, playing professional trumpet, running an arts center, being the CEO of a convention bureau, and then serving as a hospital and research institute administrator, but my notoriety for her revolved around one of my childhood commitments, delivering newspapers. Truthfully, I was honored that some three decades later, no one had become a recognizable opponent to the impression I had made on her. It was a statement that confirmed my commitment to my work, to my customers, and to my own philosophical community mores. That commitment and dedication was not a rabbit hole.

I had approached my work as a musician in a similar fashion. My commitment to practicing, preparing, and performing music could only have been described as dedication toward unachievable perfection. This journey was as challenging as any chosen personal goal could possibly have been. That was primarily because there is a thin line between perfection from practice and perfection from natural gifts. What I unfortunately discovered was there will always be some sixth-grader who, without the same dedication and commitment to practice, possesses more natural talent than I could achieve through 10,000 hours of practice, and commitment to my art. Also it provided life lessons that paid off on many levels as a formula for success in my numerous endeavors.

One of my most memorable rabbit hole experiences revolved around the assassination of John F. Kennedy. As a teenager, Kennedy represented everything that I had hoped a president could have been. When he was executed in broad daylight on the streets of Dallas, the dream of our version of King Arthur’s Camelot came to a shattering end. Innocence was lost for me and for millions of others in our country.

Not long after his death, books began to appear that were filled with conspiracy theories, and just like my dedication to the consumption of the works of the great authors both historically and contemporary, I became a passionate consumer of these conspiracy theories, the pre-cursor of Q-anon. I dedicated myself to solving his murder via every piece of literature I could consume regarding every theory put forth by those who should have been in the know at any level. Sixty years later we are still 40 years away from getting any definitive information regarding this tragic day, and I look at those hours as wasted, lost, and realize I invested in money-making schemes for the authors. That and every other conspiracy theory rates as a wasted rabbit hole of time, energy, and nothingness.

We oftentimes can’t differentiate the nuance differences between these sometimes wild rides down unknown paths, but one key to our success is to learn to hone those recognition skills and practice cutting short those unnecessary ventures into the Alice in Wonderland rabbit hole space that yields no bounty or growth. But when it’s all over, the only things that matter in life are love and family. All the rest is window dressing.

Nick Jacobs of Windber is a health-care consultant and author of two books.