I will be 62 years old on July 16.
One of the things that crosses my mind as I reflect on my birthday is that six decades and some change ago, my mom was kind enough and loving enough to give birth to me. She already had some five kids (and two miscarriages) and so, to say that she was not only willing but overjoyed to give birth again (and four more times after that) is somewhat superhuman. Having been present for the birth of my daughter (and still suffering from some PTSD) I have nothing but amazing admiration at the selfless act. I am here because my mother believed I should be.
And the same with my dad.
He worked for years, driving from Woodstock 140 miles round trip to his dental office. At times, he slept in the operatory chair when the roads were too wintry for driving. Somehow, he not only provided for all of us, but inexplicably insisted on us having a Catholic education from grade school to college. There was never some IOU hanging around or any talk whatsoever of “look what I sacrificed” from my dad. He not only worked his practice, but he also worked with us on our small farm, because he truly believed that goodness is instilled when working with the earth. How he could squeeze 48 hours out of 24 hours I will never know. Whatever little time he had for himself was spent on us, the next generation. My dad was a selfless and hardworking man.
He picked that up from his parents. My mom’s parents also belonged to a generation that saw hard work as a virtue, a privilege. All my grandparents were of an era that knew that everything could be taken away in an instant. Nothing was taken for granted. No one walked around thumping their chest and saying “I deserve this because I earned this.” They understood that whatever is given in this life is a divine gift from God. Because of that, those who were less fortunate were to be looked upon as ourselves with less fortune. If something could be done to remedy it--it was our sacred obligation to do so. It still is.
My teachers, both in school and out of school, taught me that wisdom has to be gathered. It isn’t bestowed upon one. That wisdom is not a degree or a position in life. In fact, Benjamin Franklin’s saying “to whom much is given, much is expected” are marching orders. My teachers expected me to do well as they gave me as much as possible to do well. Not for my own gain, but for others.
I have many friends who have shown me to be myself. My best friends have not only been forgiving, but also encouraging. They too are on a great journey and so, it is one of mutually helping all of us to get ahead. When I have stumbled, they have been there to pick me up, dust me off and set off down the trail. My friends believe in me because they care for me. They care for me regardless of my station in life, my faith, my beliefs and my many faults. All of my friends are the kind that, even with distance, pick right back up with a phone call. And I think of my friends, now in heaven, who I still believe are sharing the journey. That somehow friendship and communication end with death to me is an absurdity.
My wife Annie loves me in spite of myself. She sees me as her partner and her equal. Her own creativity and love of art is evident in our daughter. What we have together comes from the love of her parents, my parents and family. But it also comes from a deep respect for each other. Annie has been selfless in her love for me, and I am grateful for that.
What I am trying to say is that as I get older, I understand more keenly that whatever I am is in relation to those who have touched my soul in its journey. I have had 62 years of non-stop love, encouragement, opportunity, and God-given good fortune. Anything that has been accomplished has only been done so because of all the wonderful heroes in my life. The common denominator is that they have displayed selflessness. And as I get older, it is that one quality that becomes more dear, more important.
And so, I am very grateful for all the selflessness that has been given to me through the years. Without all of you, I would be nothing in the starkest sense of the word. We are given meaning by those who mean something to us. We return that meaning in celebrating how much others mean to us. And we convey that through acts of selflessness. Nothing is more important in life. Nothing more sacred.
READ MARTIN’S OTHER BLOG HERE.