Childhood Dreams

What did you want to be when you grew up?

Not what your parents wanted. Not what made practical sense. What did YOU want — in the quiet of your own imagination, before the world had opinions about it, before the bills arrived, before life got real?

That question hits completely different at 50-plus. Because now you have the receipts. You can look back at that younger version of yourself and actually see what he was reaching for. And then look at where you are today and ask honestly — how close did I get?

In the Season 1 finale of Man, Listen, Jamey Mixson goes all the way back to the beginning. To the kid. To the dream. And what he finds there is equal parts funny, honest, and surprisingly powerful.

Those childhood dreams were not random. They were not naive. They were data — telling you the truth about yourself before the world started editing you. The kid who wanted to be a fireman wanted to run toward the fire when everyone else ran away. The kid who wanted to be an athlete wanted excellence and the clarity of competition. The kid who wanted to be on stage wanted to be seen, to move people, to exist loudly in a world that sometimes made him feel small.

Jamey wanted to be Gary Coleman. Yes, that Gary Coleman. The Hollywood dream was real — and it led to some genuinely remarkable places, including a role as a Klingon on Star Trek, supporting cast on the legendary ER, and pickup basketball games on the lot with George Clooney, Eric LaSalle, and Ice Cube. The funest times. To this day Jamey believes Idris Elba is living his life.

But there was another dream too. The one that makes parents proud. Jamey wanted to be a medical doctor — an obstetrician, because no easy routes. He got the Chemistry degree. He became an EMT. And then, with nobody pushing and nobody insisting, he didn't finish medical school. He names that honestly. A life regret held without bitterness is still wisdom.

This episode also gets real about the parent variable — the difference a navigator makes in a young person's life, and what it means to accept what your parents couldn't give you while making sure the people behind you don't face the same gap.

And then comes the turn that makes this episode a Season 1 finale worthy of the name. When Jamey stepped into fitness professionally, something clicked. And one day he looked back at that tall kid with the long legs and the really short shorts and realized — he was doing all of those things. The performance. The science. The stage. The healing. The dreams didn't die. They got a new address.

Whatever your childhood dream was — look underneath it. The current version of your life may already be living it in disguise. And for the things that are still unfinished? It is not too late.

Season 1 is done. Season 2 is coming. And the best chapter hasn't been written yet.

Man, Listen is a weekly solo podcast hosted by Jamey Mixson — entrepreneur, fitness studio owner, and Black man living boldly after 50. New episodes every week on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, YouTube, and wherever you listen.

Man, Listen is written and recorded by host Jamey Mixson, Fitness Professional, entrepreneur, and your everyday awesome guy who is living as proof that 55 can be your strongest, clearest, most powerful decade yet. 

New Episodes Weekly. Subscribe on Apple Podcast, Spotify, and other podcast streaming services.

Contact: Instagram @theJamey, Facebook @Jameymixson, Email: mixsonfj@gmail.com 

****don't for get to leave that review 

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:05

I want to ask you something. Not a hard question, not a trick question, just a simple question that most of us haven't sat with in a long time. Okay, team, let's put our thinking caps on. What did you want to be when you grew up? Now stay with me here. I'm not talking about whatever your parents wanted, not talking about what practically made sense for you, not what that guidance counselor circled on your worksheet. Now I want you to break it down, keep it real with me. What did you want? In the quiet of your own imagination, before the world had opinions about it, before all those bills showed up, before life got real. What was your dream? You know, team, before I started asking you questions, I asked myself questions. And it hits totally different at this age. Because you know why? We have receipts. We can look back at that kid, that younger version of ourselves with the wild ideas and the unfiltered ambition to actually see what he was reaching for. Maybe it was a she, I don't know. Then you could look at wherever today has brought you. Ask ourselves, honestly, how close did I even get? Yo, what's up, team? This is Jamie. Thank you for listening in to man, listen. So if I had the privilege, no, if I had the honor of you listening to all these episodes, I get to break down to you what has happened over this very short period of ingratiated time. We started talking about the health, the entire body, your mind, the whole picture. We covered friendships, purpose, boundaries, mental health, your anatomy, power and agency, the frustration and the funniness of being as old as you are. We rocked it out with the music we love, and today I'm wrapping that thing full circle. We are going back to the beginning, back to that kid and all of their dreams. So, team, if you're ready, I'm gonna tell you I'm ready. Let's do this. Let's just take a minute and think about elementary youth. Ashy knees, dirty shirt, ladies with the pigtails and ponytails all over the place. Yeah, that was you. Every kid had something. So, based on what you know about yourself, what you remember about the childhood version of you, what was your vibe? Did you want to be a fireman? Police officer, you had a crush on the teacher, so guess what? You wanted to be a teacher, maybe a nurse, an astronaut, professional athlete, a doctor, a lawyer, Broadway actor, a movie star. You could play the drum, so you should have been a rock star. How about a veterinarian? So one of my good buddies has a PhD in aerospace engineer. I find myself wondering, was that always it for him? Was there a little kid who looked up at the sky and decided right then that space was his jam? Some people get straight line between the dream and the destination, and we slackers honor those people. Now, putting all the jokes to the side, here's what I want you to understand about those early dreams. They were not random, they were not naive, they were your data. Those dreams told you something true about yourself before the world started making edits to you. The kid who wanted to be a fireman. He wanted to matter in a crisis, to be the one who runs toward the fire when everybody else is running away. That is character, that is wiring. The job title was just the frame around something much deeper of them. We all had a kid in the neighborhood that was exceptional at every sport. That kid wanted to be a professional athlete. He wanted excellence, he wanted to feel his body do something extraordinary, he wanted the clarity of competition where the rules are clear and the best man or woman wins. How about the kid who wanted to be on stage? He wanted to be seen, to move people, to exist loudly and unapologetically in a world that sometimes wants to shut you down. So chew this up with me. Whatever the dream was, let's look underneath it. What did it actually want for you? Speaking of wanting to be on stage, I wanted to be Gary Coleman. Yes, that Gary Coleman. What you talking about, Willis Gary Coleman. I grew up watching different strokes, watching everything he was in, and I thought that's it. That's the light for me. Right, lights, big checks, Hollywood, the whole thing, baby. Before you laugh, understand that the dream was real. It pointed at something real about who I was even then. I wanted to perform. I wanted an audience. I wanted to move people and make them feel something magical. Sidebar. If you're anything like me, we are so grateful to grow up before the internet and record everything cell phones because I've been on some stages. Some were good and some were, let's just say, thank goodness nobody was recording. So now I've had years to process all this and get a better understanding that the dream was never really about Gary Coleman. And keep in mind that I am six foot four, so there was a little difference going on, but it was about what Gary Coleman represented. That thing about childhood dreams, the surface is really as deep and as textured as the entire story. Childhood dreams require a navigator, not a controller, not someone who tells you what to dream or decide which dreams are acceptable for you, but a navigator. Someone who says, I see what you're reaching for. Let me help you understand the path. Let me make sure that the random bumps to the night do not permanently derail you before you even get started. The most fortunate young people have engaged parents in that navigator role. Parents who show up not as the architect of their child's future, but as stewards and advisors. People who protect the dream even when they themselves do not fully understand it. We see more of that today. Kids with parents who are genuinely dialed in, who research the opportunities, make all those phone calls, who know what questions to ask. Those kids move differently. Not because they are more talented, but because they have a runway built specifically for them. So, my own parents, nice enough people. They're good people. They loved me. But they didn't know what they didn't know. And you can't give what you don't have. You cannot show someone a road you've yet to travel yourself. You can't navigate territory that is foreign to you. I was a teenager in the 80s. We had a few things that happened in the 80s. We had AIDS, we had rap music, we had wild clothes, we had cocaine and drug addiction. So it's worth noting that I went off to college to study chemistry. Now, had I come back home, I'm sure all the drug dealers would have loved to have a chemist on payroll. But my dream, my dream at the time was to be a medical doctor. Now I say all that to let you understand that there was nobody pushing me, nobody insisting, nobody holding me accounting to the bigger version of myself when I needed it most. I have allowed myself complete peace with that. Complete peace. Not because I didn't see it. Today I see it very clearly. But holding on to a grievance serves nobody, not me anyway. You cannot change what your parents didn't know. You can only decide what you do with that gap. Friends, I don't want to give you toxic mentality. It's not like that. What I'm articulating is the fact that I made fuel in every place where there was a guidance gap in my own life, in my own story. I use it as a blueprint for a better situation in life for my own daughters. And I'm really trying to say this softly. What I lacked became a major opportunity for my daughters. So thank you, parents. Thank you kindly. Jamie. As adults, we know life is number one teacher, right? What you did, what you heard, what you saw took you places of either learning or disappointment. So I was wise enough to package all the information based on what I knew and what I lacked to make beneficial, make a bonus for my own daughters as they move forward in life. And to further stint that point home, I've always been clear that I will fight with you to fight for you, to, and for my daughters. Now, imagine your favorite TV show or a TV show with a collective cast, right? And there's always this dominant family that has money and prestige and positioning. So they're working really hard to ensure their children are successful. We're doing that right here on the ground. Now, friends, I'm asking you to look yourself in the face. Let's sit down with your own story for a moment. Was there guidance for you? Was it absent? Was it well-meaning but pointed in the wrong direction, pushing you towards safety when you needed someone to push you towards greatness? Whatever the answer is, hold it without bitterness. Your parents were working with whatever they had, whatever information and whatever experience, whatever capacity they had at the time. Most of them were doing their absolute best, some weren't, but most were. So some of them simply didn't know which where or when to project you. Now the ask is, now the question is, what are you doing with that information for the people coming behind you? So see it this way. Every time we break a chain, we improve the cycle, we are standing at the point, at the precipice of a better decision for someone else. Every time you show up for your kid, your grandchild, your mentee, the young person in your orbit who needs to be seen and heard, you are breaking the chain and improving that cycle. And as the kids say, that's the T. As I'm sure you are aware, life has a way of getting involved in your plans. Some people's childhood dreams came true in a straight line. Those people exist, but they are rare. We respect them with a comfortable distance. You ever need to talk to the manager at like TJ Maxx or Walmart or Target or your favorite grocery store, the pet store, any of those big box circumstances. None of those people set out to be whatever life has taken them on as. Most of us got something more complicated. Life leaning you away from something you actually wanted. Or, go with me here, and nobody's talking about this. Life quietly thrusting you in a direction you did not decide. I moved to LA, Los Angeles in my late 20s. I want you to understand the energy I arrived with. I mean, come on, bro. This is LA. This is it. Jamie's going for it. So here's how it happened. I had been in a couple local plays in my hometown, and I took some classes, and I did a couple modeling shoots, and I thought I was like the next thing that happened. But the reality was, this is LA. So here I am, unguided, uninformed, armed with a lot of ambition and zero knowledge of how the industry worked. My star got off the ground, but didn't quite make it to outer space. The funny thing is, I mentioned outer space though, I did get to play a Klingon on Star Trek. Come on, feel me on this. I grew up watching Captain Kirk and Spock on TV, blue people, the big round bobbleheads, and just imagine how surreal it was to be to be in that costume on the set under the lights in full Klingon prosthetic. This brother here, living the dream. At that point, the iron was hot. I showed up on several other notable shows to include the famed ER. Initially, I was cast as an extra, and then I got elevated to supporting cast. And here's where the story gets really good. On the live, between takes, after takes, maybe later in the evening, we played basketball. I played basketball with this guy George, yes, George Clooney, Eric LaSalle, Ice Cube, and a couple other notables showed up that had a horrible game, but we let them play anyway. And there was, right in the middle of all of it, living something that kid in his living room watching different strokes could never have imagined in his wildest dreams. Those were the funnest times. To this day, I believe Idris Alba is living my life. Now I guess it's time we start talking about the other, the dream I carry differently. I wanted to be a medical doctor. Not just any doctor, but an obstetrician. I have never in my life taken the easy route and I wasn't about to start with my career ambitions. Looking back, I had already done the work. I got the degree in chemistry, became an ENT, was generally on the right path. But there was nobody pushing, nobody insisting, nobody standing at the finish line saying, you were too close to stop now. Keep going, Jamie. Keep going. So I didn't finish medical school. And this for me is one of those things that I just, you know, sit with. Because if I'm being completely honest to myself, if I'm being transparent to you, it is a life regret. And let me also let you know I'm not here pandering for sympathy. I say it because I think there's something important in being able to name the thing you wish you had done slightly differently, without letting it define who you've become, without letting it become the story you tell to yourself as a negative. Alright, let's take a second. Let's reframe this. So a regret without bitterness is still wisdom. It is the thing that sharpens your clarity about what matters, about what you would have done slightly differently, right? About what you make sure the people behind you do not have as their regret either. Here's what I want to tell you. I really want you to hear this. So when I got into fitness professionally, something just clicked. I knew it was somewhere I was built to be. Not because it was easy, because it was the correct thing. Because the work felt like it belonged to me. One day I looked back over my shoulder at that tall kid with the long legs and the really, really short shorts, the one who wanted to be Gary Coleman and a doctor and an athlete and everything all at once, and I realized something for myself. Now let's examine my reality. I'm doing all of those things right now, today. Every time I step in front of a group fitness class, I'm on stage. People come for the workup, but they stay because of what I bring. The energy, the performance, the presence. Group fitness instructor is a performance art. Most people don't realize that, but here I am. I've always been known for what I bring to the table because that kid who wanted to be Gary Coleman is standing right here every single time. Nearly every day, I have to say these words. I'm not a medical doctor before I share what I know about health, wellness, the body, and how it all fits together. The chemistry degree that was supposed to be the bridge to medical school became the foundation for something extremely different. Fast forward to now, when everybody wants to know about peptides, amino acids, BPCH, XYG, but when the GLP conversation exploded and people needed understanding, I wave my hand because I'm ready with my scientific background, because I've got the degree, because I can break it all down for you if need be. So with that said, the almost doctor of me never actually left. So if you can keep up, if you can understand what I'm trying to tell you, the dream never died. It just got a brand new address. Now I get to ask you a question. What were you reaching for at the age of nine, fourteen, at 22 before the world got practical and the rent went up? So look around, check out your stuff, see how far you've gone. Let's look at your life today. Not about what it lacks, but what it contains. Is there a version of that dream already living within who you are today and how you show up today and what still lights up in you even now? The fireman who became the crisis manager, still running towards the fire where everybody else is running the other way. Different uniform, same hardware. The athlete who became the coach, the trainer, the weekend warrior who absolutely needed the competitive edge to feel like himself. The dream did not retire, it adapted. It's worth noting that many actors have become speakers, the teachers who command attention in every room, the performer who found the stage that did not exist when we're children now find that they are perfect for them. I urge you, friends, take a second and look underneath your current life. The dream may already be there, living quietly. And for real, though, it's not too late. Not for all of us. Maybe not in the exact form you imagine as a nine-year-old, but the essence of it, oh, it's still there. That thing is still available to you to open the doors for what you wish you should have done. You have time, you have presence, you have the intelligence. Let's do it now. At your big age, you have something the younger version of yourself never had. Again, there's knowledge, there's experience, there's credibility and clarity to pursue the right things at the right time. That is not a limitation. That, friends, is a superpower. We started this season talking about health, the midlife body, the midlife mind, and what it means to refuse to slow down when the world expects you to do so. We talked about what it means to be old, but not that old, about the friendships in your life and what they cost you and what you're willing to give, about pursuing your happiness and your icky guy, about finding a thing that makes life feel real and fully to you. We talked about boundaries. I'm not your little friend, about the score your body keeps, about the autonomy of the DJ who doesn't take requests, about the power and agency and your sovereignty, about each one, each one, about the WTF of this age breakfast and all the beauty, maddening, and hilarious things that come with it. And today, today, friends, we went all the way back to the beginning, to that kid, to the dream, to the thing that was always there before anybody else arrived to complicate your existence. Here's what I know after 12 episodes and 55 years of living. That kid you were was not wrong. He was not naive. He was not reaching for something foolish. He was telling you the truth about yourself in the clearest, most unfiltered way he or she knew how before the world showed up and shook your snow globe in a different direction. Some of us got to the dream, some of us got really close. Some of us took a road that looked nothing like the dream and ended up somewhere better than we could ever imagine. And some of us still have something unfinished, something the kid wanted that the adult has yet to approach. If you can and do this for yourself, go find that kid. Look them in the eye. Tell them they were not wrong for dreaming that big. Tell them the detours were not failures. They were the curriculum. Tell them that the man or woman they became is still in the game, still climbing, still reaching. And ask him, what does he still want? What does he still want to do? So I promised myself 12 episodes as season one. And season one is done, and I can't tell you enough how proud I am of what we've built here. Each and every episode of this has been a real conversation that matters to real people like yourself, like myself. And guess what, man? That's deep. With this first season, I was hoping to build an establishment about laying a foundation, about answering the questions of who and what we are and what we stand for. Listen, I don't need you leaving me negative Yelp reviews. We're definitely coming back with more depth, more conversation that nobody, at least not enough, people, are having honestly and sincerely and right here in your face. So in the meantime, do me a favor. Go live your life. Go be part of today. Go plan for tomorrow. Go re-examine your yesterdays. Be that awesome self I know you are. Man listen exists because people over 50 deserve a space for safety and honesty to expound on their experiences, where the conversation is real, where someone is willing to say the things out loud that need to be said right here and right now. Team, I want to thank you for being here. I want to thank you for giving me your ear, your time, your mentality to enjoy all the crazy that we've become in the enjoyment of all of that that we shall be. Man, listen, this is Jamie, and I'm out.