Last Thursday just before starting our Thanksgiving meal, The Wife and I asked each member of our family what they were thankful for. The responses were what one would expect from a family gathering: the children said they were thankful for their mom, us, their brother and sister and, of course, their toys. The kids’ mom was thankful for her children, and support from The Wife and me. The Wife said she was thankful for me, family, our grandchildren and their mom. When it came to me, my response was like all the rest. But if asked today, I’d make some additions to my thankful list.
The Unexpected Influencers.
Over the years, a handful of people have had a large influence upon my life, each one dropped in a certain place and time exactly when needed to give my life new direction and purpose. A few rise to the top.
The bully of Flamingo.
Down the Street Bully Brad, with his relentless bullying for those seven years he lived down the street from us, still steers my moral compass. Because of him, I promised never to treat anyone the way he treated me, to avoid judging others because of their differences, and to never be cruel to any creatures of this world. It’s a childhood promise that still guides my actions today. No one affected my life to the extent that Bully Brad did.
The Wife.
When you marry, you have a storybook idea of what your life will be like with your spouse. Sometimes your time together doesn’t turn out the way you expect, and sadly you end up parting ways. Other marriages work, and the couples happily spend their lives together.
After twenty-five years of marriage, my life with The Wife has far exceeded anything I could have possibly imagined. The Wife is the kindest and most intelligent person I’ve ever met. Her wit and positive outlook on life is ever present, and that positivity has helped to pick me up on many occasions and set us back on the right course once again. Her creativity has guided me with my stories since the beginning. In fact, after that very first story, I would not have continued to write if not for her. I owe her everything.
But there is another that I owe.
Just over twenty-three years ago, I penned my first story for this newspaper. I was working as a firefighter on the morning of 9/11 and was shattered with that horrific event. After my shift I wrote down how I felt and then dropped the story off at the newspaper’s receptionist. The following week, I got a call to come in and talk to the editor of the paper. He had published my story on the front page – above the fold. “I like how you write. I like your voice. If you write a story once a week, I’ll give you your own column.”
After recounting the meeting to The Wife, I asked her what she thought.
“Do you have anything else to say?”
“Of course, you know me. I have lots to say.”
She smiled, “Then keep writing until you run out of things to say.”
This weekly column has changed my life in ways I never could have dreamed when it first started. Each week I see or hear things that remind me of that old familiar street not so far away called Flamingo and those seven magical years we spent growing up there. and I file the memories away for future stories. I have a heightened awareness of the world around me and see everything through the eyes of a writer. Thanks to my editor’s kind gift twenty-three years ago, when folks now ask what I do, I have been able to say, “I’m a columnist. I’m a writer.”
Writing has taken me to incredible places, and to date I’ve written two short story collections and a novel. This school year, I’ve written and illustrated two books for kindergarten/first grade and am almost finished with a third. Also, under the guidance of an outstanding fifth grade teacher, we are starting the second year of a writing club at our local elementary school.
Without the support, insight, and wit of The Wife none of it would be possible. But without that first gesture of kindness from the editor of this paper, the direction of my life would’ve taken a much different turn. I’ve fallen woefully short of conveying how much of a positive influence he has had on my life and find myself, oddly, at a loss for the correct words. Perhaps, in the future, I will have time to find them because the new editor of this paper has offered to let me continue to write my weekly column.
When I asked The Wife what she thought, she asked, “Well, it has been twenty-three years. Do you have anything else to say?”
Well, yes. Yes, I do. And the first thing I’d like to say is, “Thank you, Cal, for giving me the opportunity so many years ago to write for this paper. Like a pebble thrown into a lake, the ripples of that one act of kindness, and the positive influence you have had on my life will continue forever. Have a happy retirement, my friend.”
