There is inevitably a curious attraction to the alternative. What would we do if we had it to do all over again? The attraction no doubt springs from a moderate (though often concealed) admission of fault; namely, the recognition that there are things we could have been done differently – and, as a result (and of equal allure to the vivid imagination) things could have been different – which is to say, our shortcomings may have been avoided.

Those of us who are spirited by daily life – and I count the balance of my friends and acquaintances accordingly – probably dismiss this futile investigation out-of-hand.  There is nonetheless value in the projection; that is, there is substance to be derived from the ineffectual consideration and assessment of the past. For starters, the analysis provokes a candid rendition of one’s life, often with the “benefit of hindsight” thereby allowing a more fulsome rendition of what we have done and how we did it.

Initially the recall of the past may be highlighted by a memory of what we consider to have done incorrectly, such as that which is notable for its debauchery, lasciviousness or having being a spendthrift. Balancing this condemnation may be the unrepentant avowal that, given the chance, we’d never turn the clock back and do otherwise – for fear of missing out on all that romantic or gastronomic detail. This in turn leads one to question the wisdom of others whom we imagine to have wandered afar from those Indulgences (if that is the proper identification of the alleged impurity). More often than not we seek to distance ourselves from those whom we acknowledge to have been comparatively abstemious and controlled. I mean to say, where’s the fun in that!

The ultimate credential to the analysis is that, even if it were possible to change the past, probably not much would have been any different; and, the possibility of change in the future is contaminated by one’s advanced age and rising incapacity. In short, we’re stuck with what we’ve got. If we relied upon publicized memorials of ourselves, we might be inclined to exhibit a nonchalance regarding our present condition and our spotted past. But, as a stimulus, even commemorative persuasion will eventually succumb to improvisation and declension.

This naturally leads to the blunt betrayal of our character and capabilities. In a world of fiction it remains difficult to fabricate strengths in tune with innate substance. Then there is the question  whether we would have embraced these ingenuities were it possible to have done so. The alternate way of living may be, by comparison to how we lived, a tiresome enterprise. That business about “better to have loved and lost” haunts the overall review.