You know it’s hard to believe on this Columbus Day that I am writing these words about being 17 years into my career journey with the NYS Assembly. That it was me, a recently graduated intern soon to be employee, camping on the side of Terry Mountain in my truck camper shell, noting the deep blue autumn skies overlooking the orchards in Peru NY, taking in the views of Lake Champlain and poking around the city that had ultimately given me my college degree, before starting off on a journey that has lasted longer then my trip from cloth diapers from the Stork through my senior year in High School.

And that already I am writing these words once again, when I had penned a similar essay at year 16 last Columbus Day. Doesn’t really seem like a year has come and gone so quickly, or that previous 17 have gone by in such a flash. Indeed, if I look forward the same distance of time, I will be age 58 and it will be the year 2041. Seems like an impossibility as I write those words now. As do so many things in my life, which have gotten older and in many cases more threadbare, even as I’ve gotten more mature, more satisfied, the lines sunken deeper in my face, my hair more gray.

You know it’s sort of strange when you reach the top of your career, the directorship, where there is no clear path forward to a next step. It is a lot like climbing to the top of the mountain. You climb and climb, some sections quite hard others not so hard, but it always seems like there is more mountain ahead of you until you reach the top. Then the climb seems to fades away in your memory. And you look down at expansive landscape below you, at all that is below you, and you realize there is no more hill left. It’s not to say there aren’t every day struggles, but most of them can be laughed away with an eye roll and managed, as you’ve seen them again. At same time, a bit of emptiness has to come over you, realizing that it, the view is what you see. There is nothing more grandiose or more wonderful ahead.

It’s not to say there won’t be cost of living increases, salaries increases for hard work and results, new tasks and procedures, brought on by technology and changing institutional desires. But there isn’t a logical progression to a next step, like when I was a coordinator, or a deputy director. There just isn’t a lot to move up from being a director. I do still stare a lot at my business card though that says, “Director of Data Services”. It just doesn’t seem real to think I am in what is likely my final position of my career, that for many things I am the decider, I am where the buck stops. Others often seemed annoyed that I ask their opinion on matters where I’m the decider, as if I am asking them to decide for me. Maybe at times I am. Not that all decisions are made by me, some are dictated by law, custom or upper management, but certain things quite clearly fall in my realm, and nobody but myself is empowered to make the call. While I have decades of experience, sometimes what is the best choice isn’t all obvious.

I have lots of ideas on how to make things better at work, making data analysis more efficient and targets more relevant. But I also realize that institutions evolve slowly, and change can be hard to undertake. People fear change, as change involves risk and taking on new tasks even while needless work ceases. There is so much that can be done but resources, time and people are always constrained. Yet, I think the process and code changes I’ve implemented already are showing results, and things will only get better. Change takes time, and sometimes ideas that seem good on paper are hard to implement. In many cases, going slow, learning how the institution does things currently, and adopting changes over time is the best way forward. It is still a very paper and filing cabinet heavy office, though I agree with those who think we should get rid of more cabinets in favor of online spreadsheets that can computer read and processed, despite the desire of many to hold on to them.

I really like my career and the quality service I provide to our many clients. Being far removed from Albany and all of politics in the suburban office in Menands, you know it keeps me removed from the moral qualms of it all. It’s a gritty, dingy old suburban office building from 1980s overlooking the old city dump and smelling like the North Albany Sewage Treatment plant, but it’s good to be distant from the craziness of downtown. That said, I still have to be connected and receptive to client needs, even if many of staff are very non-political. But it’s an easier balance in my mind, as I’m not in the middle of world-whim of the issues and politics that can overtake you when your working directly on Capitol Hill. I don’t think much about the messaging, but I do think a lot about to connect the messaging to the appropriate people.

In many ways, I look back from the summit a lot different then when I was climbing it. But there is always more to do even from the top. Even if I retain my title for the remainder of my career, there are many new projects and ways I can get involved in new things. And there is a lot of chance to think about what I want my personal life to look like in the coming decades. How long do I stay? What comes next both professionally and personally? So much of my life so far has been about saving and investing, towards owning my own land, having that homestead and off-grid cabin. I’ve been drafting up ideas, looking at land, reconsidering whether or not I want to get out of New York. I’ve done okay in this state, but I do find its culture and way of living to be so constrained, contrary to who I want to be “when I grow up”. But I’m the only one putting those hobbles on myself. Nobody besides me is saying I can’t.

I worry time is running out. When you’re 41 years old, you can’t talk about what you want to be “when you grow up” without a fewer snickers in your mind like it’s some kind of cruel joke. You aren’t 18 years old at this point with many more options open as the flood of college mailers hitting your mailbox and soon the burn pit are to remind you. I look at those who want to sign me up for a 30-year mortgage, and I’m like if I sign up, I’m committing through 2054 and my 71st birthday. On the other hand, I am calmed by the fact that average farmer takes over the family farm at around age 56 and many off-griders don’t get started to a similar advanced era. Certainly though, many are younger. I made my path known by my current and past choices, actions speaker louder then words. I chose to forgo a family, to spend a lot of my days and weeks in wilderness, focus on my career, walk step by step to becoming the Director of Data Services. That doesn’t mean I’ll be there forever, but it’s where I am now and can be whatever I decide the next step to be.