My Journal 034

Thank you for responding to my favor request. Like I said, all this new technology crap is like a rotary dial phone is to you. It is nice to hear about yourself, especially when it is things with which you agree.

So I am at the game Sunday, and it is Military Appreciation day at the stadium. Prior to the game several soldiers parachuted into the stadium, which was amazing. I’ve never parachuted before, not have I ever wanted to jump out of a perfectly good plane. I have “tethered” out of a helicopter a few times, and I’ve jumped from a really high bridge once. But to me it was amazing to see.

(No sunshine, I don’t want a lesson)

During the 2^nd quarter they honored two individuals who had served in Iraq. They got a standing ovation from the stadium, which was very classy. I’ve mentioned before that I’m not the type that needs personal “rah-rah” type of stuff. I can handle that myself internally. But it was touching to see an entire stadium on their feet applauding two individuals that risked their lives for me. And I am the first to thank EVERY soldier I meet for what they do for me.

As usual, it made me think though. What they did was documented. What they did was heroic. What they did was brave and amazing. It would be nice to be talked about that way.

No, I’m not crying in my cereal. I know that I was never in the military. I also was never heroic or brave or amazing. I’m just a guy that had a certain skill and was in the wrong place at the right time.

I was like the “punk” kid that files papers in the office. He’s quietly doing his job and no one notices him. Yet when your computer screen won’t work, he’s the only one, the ONLY one, which can get it working. You are panicked because you have important work to do, so you rush to him and demand that he drop his unimportant tasks (which to him could be the most important part of his day) and you coerce him to immediately get your screen working again.

He comes, he quietly fixes the problem, and he politely informs you that it is now working. But then there is that awkward moment. He stands there, perhaps for just one second. But that is one second that you don’t want him there anymore. Now you are able to work, so he should just know to leave. So you say something kind to placate him, yet he is bright enough to realize that it is really a brush off. He smiles, nods, and quietly returns to his filing.

He’s the guy you joke about when you’re with the other important people. He never gets invited out for drinks after work; you don’t really want him there and he probably wouldn’t go anyway. No one knows what he does for lunch, and no one asks him. He has never been the EMPLOYEE OF THE MONTH. No one knows where he lives or what his hobbies are either. He just does his job and then disappears.

Then one day someone notices that he is no longer around, yet no one knows when he left, why he left, or where he was going. He’s just gone. He warrants a few cute jokes, and then he is forgotten.

The things I did will never be written about in books. No medals will ever be awarded either. I never existed. And no one here knew what I did or when I left.

But I do know that the people I was with really knew what I was doing, and I had their respect. That is the difference. And I respect them. Not because they noticed me, but because they were brave, and heroic. And I respect them because they didn’t need applause. They were there for you, and were willing to do whatever they had to do so that you could do whatever it was that you did Saturday night.

There have been times that I sort of wished that, since I was there too, that I had been noticed. But I then remember that I was the quiet filing guy, not the guy that sold the deal. That was my role.

But then, on one beautiful sunny day, I read words like yours. I get a phone call, or a text message, or an email from a friend. I think about you. Suddenly, I see that I did get an award. I was awarded you. Whatever I did in my life made me a person for which you have some form of respect. That is something that can’t be bought, bribed, stolen or given away. That makes your words priceless to me.

My intent was not to gain praise. I was just trying to figure out what to write about me in some dumb box on a computer screen. I expected some “good-natured ribbing” and a finishing line like, “But he’s ok I guess”. So to read what I did, from someone that means as much to me as you do, was truly my medal of honor.