Several people lately have asked me if I'm still writing. I always say yes, even though I'm not. I'm not sitting at the computer and composing new material, that is. But I'm always writing, even when I'm lounging around at Myrtle Beach.
I'm too old to have an identity crisis. If I haven't got it figured out by now, it's probably not going to happen. So when I found myself reduced to hand on my forehead "If I'm not in the role of mother, daughter, wife, teacher, writer ---- then who the hell am I?" a couple of weeks ago, it brought me up short. And this was close on the heels of an in-depth discussion about the nature of reality and God. Talk about Freshman Dorm Conversation ca. 1968!
Fortunately, God or someone very like God, in the form of a young African-American man running the carpet sweeper in the hotel hallway where we were sitting, happened by at just that moment and, without missing a beat, said "Human Being."
Just that. "Human Being"
Yes, I was being histrionic --- nobody ever accused me of not being a drama queen. But he cut through the bs and went straight to the heart of the matter. Brought tears to my eyes and cheers from the two women I was with.
Thomas. I asked him his name and thanked him, once the shock wore off. Thomas brought light that afternoon. And life. And love.
I expect that the lesson will wear thin and I'll once again be enthralled with the highly dramatic aspects of Life with Kathy. After all, our stories are what we bring to the world,---- the more color, the better.
But I do hope that instant, when the world stood still and everything cracked open, stays with me. One person. Doing his job. Speaking the truth.
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