“It happened in the middle of a race, a quarter midget race. Ben Burchard’s car spun out.
There was no crash. No collision. No impact. At most, Ben was jostled.
But Ben, whose dream since he was old enough to talk was to be a race car driver — insisted. Something had happened on the track. His left arm had been hurt during that spin out, hurt badly. He was in pain.
The revelation after a trip to the doctor was catastrophic: This was no racing injury. This was bone cancer.”
Take a moment to read this article today. It’s a reminder that courage comes in all shapes and sizes. And if you’re a father, it will make you pick up the phone and call your son.
What’s that, something in my eye.
Damn dusty in here.
Damn. Not even worth saying how bad cancer sucks. But man did that kid ever live it out! He lived more in his last year than many will in their long lifetimes.
And he died without regrets. Them’s balls right there. Doesn’t matter how young he was.
Oh damn .
What a great kid .
This is any parent’s worst nightmare .
-Nate
Damn, Jack. You’re going to make me have to implement some kind of quota system regarding work of yours that forces me to look hard at reality.
It’s one of the reasons I keep coming back, but it can also be an emotional wringer when I come across something like this, or when I find myself taking an honest look at how I have or have not changed over the years, especially with regards to my attitudes to others.
Fortunately, my wife doesn’t consider me a weenie or a metrosexual for having a side to me like that, as she knows very well how hard I can be when, when the occasion calls for it, especially in defense of her or our son.
We have been blessed in our immediate family with nothing more serious than some ADD/mild Asperger’s (mostly me, but I have company.)
But lately my wife, who is a good bit younger than I am, has been having some unexplained nerve tremors, and her feet have always bothered her ever since she used to train cross country for the Junior Olympics in prep school.
So to see stories about sudden discoveries about tragedy sneaking up on someone, and then having to deal with it, really makes me stop and think.
And of course, do the most important thing. No phone calls needed here, my son is the classic “in your parent’s basement” dweller, having opted for space over a wood paneled den about a year ago.
So all I have to do is go talk to them face to face, to tell them how much I love them, how much they mean to me, and how proud I am of both of them.
Another angle: it seems that you too might be going through what I called midcourse corrections, rather than midlife crisis. For me now, it is more like exit strategies, though I have no plans for doing that anytime soon. But it appears, reading between the lines, that you have arrived at the well-known truism about lives unexamined not being worth living.
Though it can be painful at times, I sometimes motivate myself by reminding myself of the popular USMC saying: “Pain is weakness leaving the body.” Or mind. Or spirit. And not all pain. But when it is pain coming from growth and rearrangement, is is weakness leaving. I wish that there was a painless, easy removal process for removing character defects and improving oneself, but it seems that the process is more like geometry: there is no royal road for it.
I have never been a fan of trite, canned self-betterment, self-encouraging daily pep talks of the kind you can find in certain monthly pamphlets, for example.
But when it is the real deal, (a) you can’t just read it and dismiss it; and (b) you know it is real, so it is easier to deal with it, even though in one sense it is difficult.
Re-reading that, it sounds like a fancy way of saying nothing, but I think you get the idea of what I am trying to say.
Keep the reality reminders coming, Jack.
And at the risk of setting off a flame war, I will use a phrase my son and his friends used to use when one of them thought another had done something that was really praiseworthy.
In order to be sure that there was no misunderstanding of intent, or who they were, they would say “I love you, man, (No homo).”
They are not gay-bashers. But neither do they want their intentions to be misunderstood, or left open to ridicule or teasing. Yet they still want to show that they really like a friend because of the way he carried himself in some situation, whether it was in sports or in life.
So I will also say to you, based on what you add to my life: “I love you, (no homo), Jack.” Your are one of the people who make life better not only for yourself, but for others as well, and do it in as an honest and sincere byproduct of just dealing with the things of life, both mundane and extraordinary. Or as is popular to say among Italians (of whom I have been fortunate to know a few): “Cent’ Ann” — (may you live) a Hundred Years.”
To me, you are proof that the world has not yet, and likely never will, completely descend into a straitjacket feminization of young men growing up. True manliness may be under attack by much of society, but it is in no danger of going extinct. Your son is lucky to have a father like you, to teach him how to do and be the necessary and fun hard things, but how to also be open to a tender and soft side as well, without doing harm to either one.
With that, I am out of here for now. Keep on keeping on.
Bravo Zulu
Oof, caught me right in the feels.
Well, that was a good cry.
My prayers are with his parents.
JP