Dear Visitor,

Welcome! What brings you here? I’m Billy Romp. You likely know me from Jane Street (Romp Family Christmas Trees, my annual gig in Manhattan’s West Village), or maybe you read my book, “Christmas on Jane Street.” Perhaps you know me from the world of bicycles and bicycling, or from the macrobiotic community, or from my connection to the world of music and musical instruments. Could even be from my slate roof contracting days. Drop a line, I’d love to hear from you.

I just might be the world’s luckiest guy. While still young I realized that I had won the biggest lottery of all time: I was born in North America in the latter half of the twentieth century. Male and white, no less. It doesn’t get any easier than that.

I saw the opportunity and determined to make the most of it. Not the most money or possessions, nor the most achievement or acclaim, but the most satisfaction, on my own terms. “The Program,” as I call it. Details have changed from time to time in order to adapt to new circumstances and new insights, but my mission has not changed: I aim to squeeze every last drop out of this lemon and die with my boots on.

108 Is a Fine Number

True story: as a kid, maybe 5 or 6, I encountered death a few times — a road-killed squirrel, a canary that died in it’s cage, a spider that I murdered myself. Hmmm, I said to myself, I could die, too. I asked my Mom, “Will I die?”

“Of course,” she said, “everybody dies some day.”

“When will I die?”

Mom made thinking gestures, looking up at some middle distance and squinting one eye as if calculating. “When you’re a hundred and eight,” she said.

I said, “Oh,” and took it at that.

A few years later I realized that it was her joking way of putting me at ease. But the notion never really left me. 108 is a fine number. As a teen I resolved to live a long and healthy life, and I fixed on age 108 as a goal. It soon became my overall goal, the goal that all my other goals are designed to support and compliment. As a goal, it has a lot going for it. It is difficult to but not impossible to achieve; progress toward it is measurable; most of the variables are under my direct control. Importantly, whether I reach 108 or not, striving toward 108 years produces benefits that are way more valuable than the costs. Most decisions, big or small, if they serve my goal, they serve me today. How to eat and exercise, how to raise a family, what kinds of livelihood to pursue. Even day-to-day decisions, if they support my goal, they likely improve my life: when to go to bed; when to put on the brakes; who to hang around with; whether to have another drink; what to do with a free hour.

If I don’t reach the goal, so what? It’s hard to be disappointed when you’re dead. If I DO reach 108, then what? It will be January 8, 2061. After I clean up from the party, I will wait for a cold snap, and on some sub-zero evening I will take a walk down the road in my pajamas. When I tire, I will sit beneath a tree and think about my life until I doze off. How many others can say that they know when, and how, they will leave this life?

Meanwhile, I continue to strive toward my potential with the mandolin, the bicycle, and the written word; I continue to travel as much of this planet and to meet as many people as I possibly can; to acquire as much knowledge and wisdom as I am able; and to prepare my mind and body for a very long life.

It is hard sometimes but mostly it is easy. Pursuit of wisdom has disposed me to reject many aspects of our culture that others regard as necessary or good. More on that later. I developed a world view of my own, and it was worth the struggle. Sometimes it resembled other world views, sometimes not; no matter. It continues to evolve.

I freed my mind and my ass followed. It worked out pretty well, except when it didn’t; I spread a lot of joy, muddled through my own life stages, and came out in old age with my wits. I’m still following the same basic plan, fifty years later. So far so good. I wouldn’t change a minute of it even if I could.

I invite you to read my comments on bicycling, music, travel and philosophy.

Thanks for visiting!

Love,

Billy