The Unseen Depth and Breadth of the Lives of Those We Take for Granted

My Mom passed away this year. My Dad died at age 57 - over 25 years ago. So my Mom's death marked the end of my physical ties to my parents. I was having problems morning my Mom's passing. We had a complicated relationship. I needed to make peace with the past and at the same time I wanted to connect with my parents in ways that I hadn't while they were alive. So I took the time to copy her address book - all of the names and addresses of the people that my Mom and Dad had chosen to stay in touch with for over 65 years. I asked these people for stories about my Mom and Dad that would help me to understand the roles that they had played in their lives. The stories I got back weren't what I expected.

One of their friends from when my Dad was in the Air Force, stationed in the Marshall Islands, in 1953 wrote, "We are so sorry to hear of the death of your mother, a truly bright and lasting light in our lives." What an amazing opening to a window from the past into my parents lives. These beloved friends of my parents shared several stories that painted them as a charming and bright couple with two small children and the world at their feet. They close the letter with, "Those were good times that we will always remember. You had two of the nicest, most up-beat parents. We loved them, and will always love them." To have so impacted the lives of this couple to have endeared themselves so closely for so many years humbles me.

Another couple wrote, "Your mother and father came to Ithaca New York in August of 1954 so that your Dad could attend Cornell Law School starting in September of 1954. We arrived at the same time so that Peter could attend Cornell as well. Both families found apartments in old farm houses. Your Mom and Dad lived in one owned by a Professor Emeritus, and we lived in an old farm house owned by an officer of GLF (Agway). Going to school on the GI Bill monthly allotment is not an exercise in extravagant living, so your Mom got a job as a secretary for a Political Science Professor. I stayed home and watched both sets of children and we split your Mom's wages. That is, essentially, what both families had to live on, pay the rent, buy groceries and keep the used cars going."

I never knew that my parents struggled to that level to make ends meet. Their letter closes with, "The years at Cornell were busy, sometimes difficult but always, with our families, there was a close bond of friendship, caring and concern."

In another note that I received, a friend of my Dad's from his boyhood spoke to their lifelong friendship and how my Dad had been the one to introduce him to his wife of 60 years.

With these letters and notes, I was blessed with the opportunity to see into the impact that my parents had on the lives of others. It allowed me to see them in a different light and with a deeper appreciation for the richness of experiences that their lives were. I have made peace with my Mom's passing, and I have connected with people that I will continue to stay in touch with, as I have come to love my parents more through the stories shared by those who came to love them throughout their lives.

On My Core Values and Faith

“For all the peoples and nations of the earth, may not even the names disease, famine war and suffering be heard, but rather, may their moral conduct, merit, wealth and prosperity increase, and may supreme good fortune and well-being always arise for them.”
For the last 25 years this is the prayer that I have been aligning my values with and shaping the world around me to. I once heard a story, a long time ago, about true FAITH:
There was a man who had lived an exemplary life. He was generous, loving, kind, compassionate, and practiced his religion devoutly. One day, as he was praying to his God, his God spoke to him. “You are a good man, a man of principles, you are kind and generous, thoughtful and compassionate, but you are not yet a true man of Faith.”
The man responded, “How can you say that, what more do I need to do to prove myself to you?”
God replied, “You do not ever have to prove yourself to me. Nothing you have done, or can do, will ever change how I see you. Our relationship is eternal.”
“I don’t understand,” the man replied.
God lovingly answered, “Faith is like a hammock for which you are unable to understand or identify what it is anchored to. There are those who won’t venture onto the hammock at all, fearful of what they can’t see and have no perceivable control over. Then there are those who will pretend to be in the hammock, but in reality they have worked to maintain an infrastructure that will catch them if they fall. So too, there are those who trust the hammock, for the most part, but keep one foot on the ground ‘just in case’. True FAITH can be found in those who have both feet in the hammock.”
Every day is a celebration and a miracle in the lives of those with true FAITH. These individuals are connected and belong in ways that go far beyond what our five senses take in. The human spirit has the potential to be a conduit, and FAITH is that which allows the spirit to connect to something much bigger, enduring, and pervasive. “I believe” is the logical mind rationalizing the act of having both feet in the hammock.