When I was 13 years old I moved from Ashland, Kentucky to Worthington, Ohio - just north of Columbus. I was a chubby kid with a thick Appalachian accent, brown glasses and a salad bowl haircut. We moved in the summer just before my eighth grade year. When school started I couldn't buy a friend. I was made fun of everyday for the way I looked or talked or acted. I've had a few rough years as an adult, but 1986 was the worst of my life. Through the real, enduring pain of that year the true course of my life opened up. That year taught me that pain eventually passes, or more truthfully, we eventually pass through our pain. The pain changes us. Without that year of pain, I may not have had the courage to make the big moves of my life - to Las Vegas, to LA, to Cincinnati. Without that pain, I may never have noticed the pain in others' eyes. Everything I do is informed through the eyes of the outcast and unwanted...I see everything in every room I enter through those eyes. As a teacher and storyteller, I see through those eyes.
What got me through the worst year of my life? A milkshake. Specifically, a 28 year-old ex-jock buying me a milkshake at The Dairy Queen on Sawmill Road in Dublin, Ohio. I have no idea what we talked about. I can't remember anything about that meeting except that we met at that particular DQ. I just know that that guy was my first friend in Ohio. I know that he introduced me to some other kids who accepted me. I know that he stood beside me when I made a public commitment to enter ministry. I know that he flew 3,000 miles on his own dime to be my best man in my wedding. I know that I followed him to Las Vegas with my wife of six months because I couldn't imagine wanting to be anywhere else. I know that he was among the first to hold both of my babies. I know that he patiently and selflessly waited for me to learn hard lessons in my own time. I know he continued to love me through my worst mistakes and through my multiple career changes. I know that his brother is the reason I'm back in vocational ministry.
I'm just saying, a milkshake goes a long way. We just spent the last two hours together. This time he bought me coffee. Maybe at some point I should start paying for these meetings...
4 comments:
not everyone turns their junior high pain into empathy and legitimate care for others. mine turned into brutal sarcasm. we must've had different shakes.
Having left Ludlow, Kentucky at age 9 and moving to Chicago, I experienced the pain of being a misfit, too -- picked on and bullied -- VERY HARD TO ADJUST to new a new town, new state, couldn't make any friends, and kids made fun of the way I talked (from NORTHERN Kentucky, mind you -- REALLY was an ear opener for Chicago suburban kids when they heard my cousins' twang from CENTRAL Kentucky when they visited). Eventually things got better, but I always seemed back then to be wearing a bullseye. I'm glad God intervened or I may have started studying telekinesis.
do you think there is a chance we could hear this story form the "pulpit"? and then say... "stop wasting your pathetic little life and volunteer with middle school at the student union."
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