HE CALLED MY NAME
Today is the 4 year anniversary of my friend John’s sudden death. The man intimidated me. At first, anyway.
The first time I was in his home in Olney, Maryland, just outside DC, I showed up wearing blue jeans with no belt. That’s just what I wore. But that night, I was using his tickets to take his youngest daughter to a political humor stage show in Georgetown. His daughter and I got dressed and were preparing to walk out the front door of that Olney condo when the man brought me a belt. Actually, I think he gave the belt to his beautiful wife who in turn gave it to me. I kind of think, wimpy as I was and am, I must have intimidated him just a bit as well.
The man and I were at total political and intellectual odds with one another. He was a lifelong Democrat. I’m a lifelong Republican. He had a Doctorate degree in Science. I am some .00000089 grade points away from an undergraduate degree in Communications. He did his best to egg me on, politically. And he allowed me just enough wiggle room to take his bait or survive. I learned early on to just smile, nod and say something like, “Nice try, John. I’m not going there.” He just kind of always smiled with some degree of satisfaction at such responses . It could be argued that he was satisfied with defeating me in an attempted political discussion. I choose to believe that he was satisfied with the way I politically dodged the confrontation. Eventually, the man turned the discussion to something I truly understand - college basketball. He turned it that way for me. He knew who he was dealing with - an idiot boy with a passion for hoops.
Still, for a while I never really felt any degree of comfort around the man. I wasn’t as smart as he was. And we all know that Republicans are a lesser class of folks to Democrats. And I was the man who was charged with taming the youngest and wildest of his six daughters. There was no way I could live up to the man’s expectations of someone like me in the position in which I found myself.
But when the time came - when I was given the opportunity of helping to care for the man during a hip surgery recovery - well, I shined, I think. John had to be helped in and out of bed for a while. His wheel chair needed to be pushed and maneuvered for a while. And the man had his wife, his daughter, two grandchildren and other friends and sort of family members around to help. But when the time came to do such things, he almost always said the same thing.
“Where’s Moon? Let Moon do it!”
I will cherish those words always. We transcended talk of college basketball during that time. Intimidation fell by the wayside. During the man’s weakest moments, he called the name of the wimpy beltless guy.
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The first time I was in his home in Olney, Maryland, just outside DC, I showed up wearing blue jeans with no belt. That’s just what I wore. But that night, I was using his tickets to take his youngest daughter to a political humor stage show in Georgetown. His daughter and I got dressed and were preparing to walk out the front door of that Olney condo when the man brought me a belt. Actually, I think he gave the belt to his beautiful wife who in turn gave it to me. I kind of think, wimpy as I was and am, I must have intimidated him just a bit as well.
The man and I were at total political and intellectual odds with one another. He was a lifelong Democrat. I’m a lifelong Republican. He had a Doctorate degree in Science. I am some .00000089 grade points away from an undergraduate degree in Communications. He did his best to egg me on, politically. And he allowed me just enough wiggle room to take his bait or survive. I learned early on to just smile, nod and say something like, “Nice try, John. I’m not going there.” He just kind of always smiled with some degree of satisfaction at such responses . It could be argued that he was satisfied with defeating me in an attempted political discussion. I choose to believe that he was satisfied with the way I politically dodged the confrontation. Eventually, the man turned the discussion to something I truly understand - college basketball. He turned it that way for me. He knew who he was dealing with - an idiot boy with a passion for hoops.
Still, for a while I never really felt any degree of comfort around the man. I wasn’t as smart as he was. And we all know that Republicans are a lesser class of folks to Democrats. And I was the man who was charged with taming the youngest and wildest of his six daughters. There was no way I could live up to the man’s expectations of someone like me in the position in which I found myself.
But when the time came - when I was given the opportunity of helping to care for the man during a hip surgery recovery - well, I shined, I think. John had to be helped in and out of bed for a while. His wheel chair needed to be pushed and maneuvered for a while. And the man had his wife, his daughter, two grandchildren and other friends and sort of family members around to help. But when the time came to do such things, he almost always said the same thing.
“Where’s Moon? Let Moon do it!”
I will cherish those words always. We transcended talk of college basketball during that time. Intimidation fell by the wayside. During the man’s weakest moments, he called the name of the wimpy beltless guy.
Click HERE to explore The Lunar Report
WE RECEIVE NO INCOME FROM THE ONLINE PUBLICATIONS OR ADVERTISING, SO ANYTHING YOU CAN DO TO HELP WILL BE GREATLY APPRECIATED. PLEASE CONSIDER A DONATION TO THE LUNAR REPORT. JUST CLICK THE DONATE BUTTON ON THE RIGHT. THANKS FOR READING AND SHARING.
Posted by David Moon at 7/11/2011 7:23 AM 
Categories: uncategorized
Tags: death friend help recovery love family politics
Categories: uncategorized
Tags: death friend help recovery love family politics
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