A litany of the saints I’ve known
Igo to more funerals than weddings these days. Bear with me for a personal roll call: My friend Ed has died. Ed was 91 and the bumper sticker summary of his life was that he was an ex-congressman and skilled attorney.
He was those things, yes. But much more.
Ed was not a politician. He was an un-politician, first because there was no falseness in him. But also because of the things he loved and the things he did. He loved music and art. And he did things like volunteering to teach reading one day a week in the public schools.
He told me once that being defeated for re-election to Congress was the best thing that ever happened to him. He said it gave him more time for his family, more time for the community, and freedom of conscience.
Thus, failure became opportunity, which became a life. Thank you, God, for failure. Doug was a master chemist (he helped invent the field of photochemistry) and maybe even a genius one. He was a much honored academic and successful entrepreneur. But above all else he was a man fully engaged with life and the world. He was a blogger, an amateur historian, an ardent Rotarian, a deep and studious lover of classical music, an internationalist and frequent traveler, who set up many foreign exchanges of both students and scholars.
It was great fun to talk to him because he had the enthusiasm of a college sophomore discovering all the beautiful and lasting things of life. He was 84 when he died. But he didn’t seem it. There was almost nothing he was not interested in.
Wayne was an uber-competent, uber-honest, and uber-empathic veterinarian. But those things didn’t define him, either. He was a man who had a talent for life itself. Charming and ebullient, he could accomplish anything if you kept committees away from him. And he would give you the shirt off his back. But you would leave feeling blessed, not beholden. He made goodness fun.
I still grieve the loss of my friend and colleague Matthew. He was only 59 when he passed. He was a journalist but, most of all, a soul as courageous as innately gentle. He left the law and entered journalism because he had run against his boss, the local district attorney and, having lost the race, needed a job. Some people confuse good manners for timorousness. I doubt Matthew ever raised his voice, even as the devoted father he was.
None of these men were plaster saints and none of them wanted to be. But their lives left practical lessons. A few they taught me:
Be a helper: Be of use. Be a neighbor. Be one who feeds the hungry, picks up litter, walks with the weary, and listens, listens to the lonely, which is almost everyone.
Be curious: Jimmy Carter wrote a children’s book and started making wine in his old age. That’s why his old age was not old.
Be an enthusiast: Any subject or occupation is interesting when you hear about it from an enthusiast. Think of Hubert Humphrey or William F. Buckley Jr. In the immortal words of Warren Zevon: “Enjoy every sandwich.”
Be brave: Not everyone is a hero. But we can all take a few chances: in our work, our avocations, our relationships. Americans don’t take chances any more. We watch athletes, or marathoners, or mountain climbers or action heroes and think risk can only be extreme and for the extraordinary. The rest of us are meant to sit and cell phone. Be in the arena.
Be classy: Most of us know how, we just choose to be crass instead — the age of Trump and “freeing the nipple” has engulfed us all. But if you turn the other cheek and go the extra mile, you will be at ease.
One young pal of mine has invented something great: Instead of the one-finger salute to the guy who cuts him off in traffic or lays on his horn when the driver ahead delays a nanosecond at the traffic light, my friend gives a thumbs down. “It says, I know you can be better,” he told me.
Be who you are: Do not be afraid to be unique. For no one else can be you. (We are channeling Mr. Rogers here but his rap is both healthy psychology and theological truth.) And nothing, nothing is as attractive, or reassuring as a person comfortable in his or her own skin.
All of these men, all of them recently lost to this world, won at life.