Tell me, who are you…I really want to know.
R. Daltery, P. Townsend, J Entwistle. ~ pinball wizards.
Shifts in the stages and the onslaught of corresponding major interruptions that follow, can entice us to pause and re-think the stuff we hoard and the relationships we maintain. Recently, my attentions have turned towards my friendships. I am not referring to the Facebook variety; even Ivy knows that they’re not real. I am referring to the kind that C . S. Lewis describes as necessary to make life worth living
Before, I continue, I want you to consider this simple question. I need to know, who are you? It might be easier to answer if I were to restate the question, Who do you want to be…?
Seldom do I verbalize how I see my self. I used to think of myself based on what I had to do to bring home some bacon, instead of something in which I had a passion, or dare I say, a calling. I was a contractor, then an accountant. A few zigs and a zag, a few desert adventures, looking for an oasis, or purpose. Now I see myself as a writer. If you have been reading for any length of time, I frequently refer to my ability to write as a gift, as “…something generously given to someone undeserving…so that I can be a blessing to others.” At the risk of sounding pretentious, I write because I have a story to tell and I want “to be a blessing to others.”
It was my lovely wife who first noticed that my storytelling was unique and worthy of sharing. It was because of her prodding, I have connected my world with yours. If it were not for her I would still be in [de-Nile], still suffering in silence, and believing the lie that our story, and ultimately our lives, didn’t really matter.
As the saying goes, we don’t get to pick our family. My family is my “why”. They are the reason that I strive to get vertical each morning. For the past half a decade, my three children, Kelsey, Taylor, and Ian, have watched my heart soften as my limbs grew increasingly rigid and stiff.
Everybody wants to protect their children. It is for that reason, that I seldom “write them into my world,” naively thinking that I can protect them from seeing me in mine. Hopefully, the change from a “mean old man who didn’t like kids” to a “mean old man who thinks the world of each of them” was noticed.
I want to extend my heartfelt gratitude to all those who are instrumental in my care. For the better part of the last decade, I have been treated by the best of the best the world has to offer. They see me not as a billing unit but a real person, with dreams worthy of all those who are members in the club.
Additionally, In my corner, is an eclectic mix of business leaders, entrepreneurs, computer geeks, and artists that lent me their expertise and insights to help me add polish and credibility to my message. They were able to look beyond the occasional dyskinesia and gate disturbance, typing errors, and awkward silence, while I had to search for the perfect word or attempt to recall the name of a comrade. Still, they saw me as vibrant and capable with a brilliant mind — only slightly encumbered by a glaringly obvious physical impairment.
These are just some of the people with whom I now share a bond; an irredeemable debt of gratitude. They treat me as human, as one of their own.
To Hudson and Hank who fix what I manage to break, or tend to my lawn giving the casual gawker the illusion that all is as it was; and now it is as it should be.
To the Bob’s, who were mindful of my condition and felt compelled to make a difference.
To my anchor group, Todd, Joel, Matt, Kevin, and Paul, you have been my well, my anchor, giving me a safe place and the freedom to be me, to value my contribution to our collective spiritual development. We can make a difference.
Then there are saints, I doubt if you even know who you are. You always have the perfect words of encouragement on the tip of your tongue. You showered my family and me with prayers, mercy, and compassion. You hold me accountable and accept nothing less than the best. My thanks go out to Ben and Steve, to Randy and his better half Bonnie, and to Craig and a different Bonnie, to Merlin and of course Ken.
My world is much bigger than I thought it would be and could be. Individually and collectively, you enabled me to have a life that is too big to live alone. I wonder how many of the people that I mentioned set out to change someone’s life, to make others more complete.
With that, I will leave you with the question that I started with; “Who are you? Are you somebody or are you nobody? Are you bent on holding down the fort, protecting the status quo, or do you want to drive change making a difference in the lives of those who cross your path?
Again, quoting Lewis, “There are far, far better things ahead than any we leave behind.”
There will be times that we want everything around us to stop so that we can relax, regroup, and reclaim normalcy by taking in the sights, the scenery or the sounds. But stagnation is not our friend; whatever it was that we want to hold on to tightly, will soon lose its apDo you have a sense of purpose that makes you feel you are unstoppable? Or are you convinced it’s your destiny to claim the bottom rung of the social order as your domain?
Tell me, who are you?
Are you a nobody, striving to be somebody? Or are you somebody, fighting fatigue, failure, or fatty foods that serve to push you below the line into a world ruled by nobodies? Do you represent the best that we can be or the worst that we are; the most that we can contribute or the least that we can accomplish, my noteworthy aspirations or my least draining expectations? Who are you? Unsure, it might help if you take a mirror with you when you hit the voting booth.
Who are you..who, who?
The wizards are waiting. We better not make them wait too long, they have been known to be pretty hard on their musical instruments and hotel rooms when they get bored.
Thanks for reading and Liking; sharing it if clears your conscience.
Al Van Dyk
Sorry, Ivy,
Lastly, I owe a debt of gratitude to Ivy the Wonder pup. You are more than just an ordinary sidekick. You are my scapegoat…my walking dictionary…and my source of unconditional acceptance. If you feel like what I ask you is unreasonable and that I, too often, exploit your companionship, I probably do. Speak up if it happens again. You’re a dog; you do know how to speak, don’t you?
