You cannot do a kindness too soon, for you never know how soon it will be too late.
It was a cheesy sign hung on a wall in an Airbnb my wife and I stayed at last weekend in Asheville. Ralph Waldo Emerson said it - per the Googs. I didn't think much of it - or apparently I did because I actually remembered it. It's coming to my mind right now as I'm thinking of the subject of this piece. I've always considered myself a kind person. Well, mostly. Unless you're in the left lane going 55.
I'm nice to service people and try to smile to folks when I'm out and about. I do the Texas Two-Finger wave from my car (one hand on the steering wheel and lift two fingers at passers-by). In my job I have to make lots of calls to vendors and city and state administrative folks to clear up paperwork and I try to be jovial and understanding when we're both exasperated. I wave at neighbors and try to be involved in community issues. And I talk to employees and staff to get to know their lives and relate to them.
On our first date, Meagan still remembers that a woman had dropped her groceries on the sidewalk and I stopped to pick them up as I was walking toward our date.
So I consider myself a nice person. Kind and empathetic. That's how I'd like to be known. I was talking to my sister recently and I mentioned a quote that I'd seen. Quick aside, if you use Chrome you should check out CloudHQ - it has a ton of handy-dandy little add-ons such as one I use called Good Morning - it gives you weather, pictures, and an inspirational quote every time you open a new tab. Not linking it for you - Google it.
The quote I shared with my sister is from Socrates, "The greatest way to live with honor in this world is to be what we pretend to be".
And then I explored it a bit giving her my two cents about what I thought about it. How can I live with honor if I'm pretending? I guess if you think about it as, if who I want to be is a kind person, and I act like that - then maybe I actually am. Whatever I think about myself on the inside - whatever is holding me back or weighing me down - if I act like the person I want to be, then everyone who knows me knows me as that person and that is who I am.
All of these thoughts came swirling up because I have been wanting to write lately and thinking about what to write about. My fans are eagerly awaiting my work.
I don't know that anyone who knows me would call me a "family man." Not that I don't love and cherish my family, but when I think of a family person I think of someone who probably lives near much of their family, likely has kids, spends a lot of time talking about their family, etc. I check none of those boxes. Once again, it's certainly not that I don't care about my family but my parents raised their kids to be independent. We went out in the world and are doing our thing.
But, I feel bad that I don't know my extended family as much. And it occurred to me recently that some... resentment that I felt toward some could easily be felt by some about me.
We left Texas when I was young. Thank goodness. I love ya, Texas - the open fields, the wild country, the feeling of being unbridled - but let's be real. Texas ain't exactly where ya wanna be right now, know what I mean?
I digress. We left when I was young - leaving behind an aunt, cousins, and grandparents. We got to see them on occasion but after I was 9 I never really knew them. Other family was spread out - California, Alaska, Indiana, Atlanta, who knows where else. So we got to see them on occasion but I didn't really know them.
One set of grandparents moved to stay close to us and my grandpa who had remarried moved to be close as well. That was great! We had grandparents nearby and it was great to have them in our lives.
When I was somewhere around 13 my grandpa split and left with another woman. Whatever, it's your life, who am I to judge? But he left and never reached back out. Didn't visit for holidays, didn't call. I didn't hear from him until I was in my 20's if I remember correctly. And then once more a couple years ago before he passed. I didn't want to talk to him, though.
Back to current times. We're remodeling our bathroom upstairs because I painted a wall. Long story for another blog - hey, a new subject! About two weeks ago, I'm changing out a light switch because the off-white color didn't match the bright white outlet covers. I take everything apart and am looking at a tangled mess of wires that resembles pulling headphones out of your pocket - and I'm like, wtf?
Consulted YouTube. Called my dad. Called Meagan's dad. Too difficult to try and FaceTime to show what's happening. For any wiring nerds reading, there were two switches and they had jumped the hot wire between the two switches - I think so the switches could share the ground wire. Except the new switches only had a quick-connect hole big enough for a 12 or 14-gauge wire and the wire in the house was 8 or 10. I ended up having to connect two wires to the hot connection - nothing has burned down. Yet.
During all this, my mom says "call your Uncle," referring to her brother. He's an electrician by trade and teaches it and would love to share his knowledge. Well, I don't know this guy. I can probably count on one hand the times I've ever met him and on one finger the times I remember. As far as I am aware there was never any desire from him to be an uncle to his sister's kids. Maybe there was but how would I know?
So I said... no.
All I know about him now is I think he's a Trumper which automatically excludes him from being someone I want to converse with. And I haven't seen or talked to him in over 20 years. How am I supposed to approach this? "Hey, Uncle who I disagree vehemently with on all political ideals and while that shouldn't disqualify us from being decent people and having a conversation it kind of does - I know we haven't spoken in 20 years but can you hop on a call with me to help me figure out light switch wiring?"
Sorry, just not a conversation I look forward to.
So I'm explaining all this to Meagan and it came up that I felt resentment for having been - abandoned isn't the right word - but just left. I felt they left - my grandpa, my uncles and aunts - and didn't want to be a part of our lives. Their loss.
But it occurred to me that maybe that's how my cousins and aunt felt when we left Texas. I never got to develop those relationships further. There was no Facebook when I was 9. I found some friends and family years later when I was in college and I see their posts from time to time. Have certainly unfriended a few in recent years. But I never went back and tried to reconnect.
You cannot do a kindness too soon, for you never know how soon it will be too late.
Maybe that stay in Asheville was a cue for me.
I would like to be closer to my family. I'd like to get to know them as they navigate their lives and be able to visit and be a second-uncle-half-removed or whatever I'd be to their kids.
I think it would be awesome if when one of them is writing their own blog in 20 years that they think about how great it is that they got to know more of their family.
The greatest way to live with honor is to be what we pretend to be. Perhaps by actually acting like someone who loves his family and wants to be involved with his family I will become a family man. I would rather be known as a man who loves his family than a man who loves himself.
So I'll try and do something kind soon. Send a letter with some pictures. Send a couple small gifts from DC. Invite family to visit or stay if they're in town. Something, so maybe they don't feel like their family left them.
Maybe I'll even extend an olive branch to my uncle. No politics allowed. We'll just talk about wiring the whole time.
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