As the ravages of age and a chronic disease (diabetes, which produces neuropathy) have progressed, walking has become a bit of a challenge. Walking while carrying something is more a test of will than anything else.
So it was with some trepidation that I carved out some time to help my son move.
I have misused this Bible verse routinely, possibly even in this space, but it’s still worth noting: “Greater love has no man than this, that he helps his friend move.” (Note: For the record, my son is my friend as well as my son. I am quite blessed by that.)
He’d found a house to rent in Fort Wayne, where he’s both going to school and working. He’d rented a truck and had loaded it himself. So here he was, unloading it and carrying it into the new residence.
So I showed up, figuring if nothing else I could point to where I think things ought to go. It wasn’t my call, and for a while I didn’t have anything to do.
The saving grace to the day was when a couple of Bobby’s friends showed up. They were big and they were young and they were strong and they were solicitous of the old guy who really wanted to help. And so it was I moved the stuff from the front of the truck to the back of the truck (some of it, anyway), and the three younger men — Bobby and his two friends, Kyle and Chris — actually carried it all into the house.
These two guys knew who I was, but they still assumed that I worked in my previous job. Nope, not there, been in Bluffton for nearly 14 years now.
So here is the question for the day: What can you do to help?
Years ago, I would have been one of those big, young, and strong guys doing the carrying. That’s no longer who I am.
I have had people ask me to write things for them, and I can still write, even if it hurts sometimes. It’s something I can do. Someone — I thought it was Mark Twain, but I can’t find it anywhere — said “anyone who writes something except for pay is a fool.” I write things for pay, but I have also written things not for pay. Since I love my friends — “love,” that is, in the friendship sort of way — I will gladly be a fool for them.
A friend of mine left her reporting gig years ago and had a business card printed up with her name and a single word: “Writer.” Pretty good card, that.
So let’s get back to the question I asked a little bit ago: What can you do to help?
People have different abilities. I can do something, and I’ve identified it. My son’s friends realized they could carry stuff into a rental house.
Allow me to put in a plug for the Wells County Leadership Academy. One of the ideas behind the WCLA was to grow a class of leaders, people who would fill in gaps where they were needed. I learned a lot from the academy, but I never became one of those gap-fillers. This journalism job is a time-eater; no matter what I try to do, there’s always more to do. I want to be a good husband, father, and grandfather, and that requires more time.
There’s a time coming when I may be doing something else, when I could be working far less than what I do now — or, perhaps, not at all. The question will be much more real to me: What can I do to help? After all, I should have the time.
My friend Mike Kracium volunteers at Bluffton Regional Medical Center. When I came into the facility for one of my increasingly frequent appointments, he sized me up. “When are you going to be doing something like this?” he asked me.
Soon enough, my friend. Soon enough. I want to help.
It won’t include helping anyone move.
daves@news-banner.com
