Tag: special

  • Conversation with a Celebrity

    Conversation with a Celebrity

    Let me tell you a story about my simple interaction with an unexpected person.

    I was walking down a street downtown. This street was like any other in countless cities across the country. Shops and restaurants all around. Cars left, right, and center. People getting picked up, laughter, the joy of being out in public with a purpose, or with no purpose in the world, it didn’t really matter.

    With the recent lifting of certain mandates, this area was particularly bustling as the pandemic started to appear to come under control. You could sense in the movements of others what a special treat this was. To be living, to be out, to see people, to shop, to dine. All the things that had been taken for granted for so long. Each and every person, purpose or not, had their own reasons for being there. A thousand unique actors.

    As I walked back to the parking lot where my car was located, I saw someone standing idly, looking out toward the street. He appeared to be waiting for a ride. I would have paid the stranger no mind, I should have paid the stranger no mind, I still have no idea what made me double-take. Maybe I subconsciously noticed the chisel of a jaw line, noticeable even under the scruff of a beard that had been grown as disguise.

    I slowed my pace and inconspicuously tried to get a better look. He was tall and clearly handsome. Wearing sunglasses that were neither flashy nor attention grabbing. A beard… the beard gave it away. Of course, beards weren’t unique, but this one was hiding something.

    If you’ve seen 10 movies in the last year, there is little chance you hadn’t seen this man. He was the movie star. He was the lead man. He was “What women wanted and what men wanted to be,” yada yada. It was startling. What was he doing here? Like a narwal caught in the middle of the street, how did this happen? And yet, he was not a narwhal. He was a man. Just as at home on this street corner as any other man, except, that was the thing, right? He wasn’t any other man.

    I walked with new purpose. 

    “Hello, my name is Brayden. Where do you currently stand on shaking hands?” The pandemic world we lived in made this a newly common question.

    He looked over curiously, “Hello..” he said, trying to gauge who I was to him and why he was being spoken to. He withheld his name, for obvious reasons.

    “I introduce myself instead of saying, ‘are you’ because I like to think it would help you feel a little more like a normal guy, which you apparently want with that beard. Of course, maybe I’m just like 90% of people and try to treat you normal when of course my approach right now is not normal, and you yourself are not normal.”

    I hoped to be unique in my introduction for a chance at starting a memorable conversation. Did I just insult his beard? He looked at me for a moment. I imagined he was trying to gauge if I was a crazy fan that he should be wary of. 

    “Is the beard that obvious?” He said, with a slight smile.

    Interesting. Not too busy for us little people.

    “Well, there are beards and then there are disguises. Yours looks like it has a purpose.” This seemed to tickle him. He laughed jovially. I continued, “I’m sorry for the weird introduction, was going for unique. The line between unique and weird is so fine.”

    “It is indeed,” he said. He continued, “The question is, would you ever greet a stranger on the street this way if that stranger wasn’t me?”

    “No, I wouldn’t,” I replied. “As stated, you are not normal.”

    “I guess I’m not, as you implied, I wish I was, sometimes.”

    “Only sometimes?”

    “Maybe a more often than sometimes. Since we’re ankle deep into this interesting conversation, what makes me unique?”

    I thought for a moment. “You’re known. Like you pointed out, I’d never do this with another stranger unless I had a purpose. I guess the purpose with greeting you was your inherent uniqueness.”

    “You say being known makes me unique, doesn’t it make me less so?”

    “Interesting question. I guess it’s how you define unique.”

    He quickly expounded, as if this was something he had spent some time considering. “I would consider unique as one of a kind. In that sense I would consider myself the opposite of unique. ‘I’m known’ you say. I know nothing about you. I know nothing about that person.” He pointed to someone walking by. “I know nothing about that person.” He pointed at a blonde woman in high heels entering a vehicle. “Me being known makes me the opposite of unique. I’m surrounded by uniqueness. Every individual is unique. Every person here is walking their own path, has their own dreams, has children, has a bad day, has a good day, has love, has angst, has fear. In short, every person here thinks they’re the center of the universe. Isn’t that interesting?”

    “It is interesting. And yet, if any of those people saw you, they might stop and change their course to get an autograph, say hi, or start a strange existential conversation.”

    He laughed at this. “I am less unique than any person on this street. That is exactly what makes humanity beautiful.”

  • Laura

    Laura

    Tomorrow is the three-year anniversary of my Aunt Laura passing away.  Laura was an inspiration to everyone she met.  She had a profound impact on my life.

    I want to share a little about her and why she was so special.

    Laura was diagnosed with cancer when I was younger.  As long as I can remember, Laura had cancer.  When I first found out, it was scary, but I was young and didn’t understand.  When Laura was still there year after year I really didn’t understand.  What was so scary?  She clearly wasn’t going anywhere, she was as healthy as ever.  I’m pretty sure within a year of her first being diagnosed my next memory of Laura was her, my mom, and another aunt going on a sling shot carnival ride.  I remember thinking, “clearly she’s ok.”

    It wasn’t until I was older that I learned and better understood what Laura went through for many years.  She was diagnosed with cancer at a young age, I believe she was 28.  She wasn’t expected to live too long.  It’s amazing to think that I’m 30 now.  Two years older than she was when she was told she wouldn’t have much longer to live.  I feel invincible every day.  Death is not something that crosses my mind (see Facing Death for the exception to the rule).  The thought of truly coming to terms with my mortality tomorrow is daunting.

    Cancer made Laura live life with a fervor that was powerful to witness.  She lived every moment to its fullest.  She went to school to get (more) degrees, she travelled, she wrote, she served.  She spent every moment in the most worthwhile way.

    When I would visit her, I would want to relax, watch movies, read.  She was a big fan of reading, but relaxing, watching movies?  Not going to happen.  I’ll share a story I told at her funeral. 

    It was 2011 and I was visiting Utah.  I was staying with Laura and my Uncle Jon for a few days.  See You Sent a Dog to Comfort a Boy and Jonah and the Whale posts for more details on this all-important trip in my life.  Laura used a pass she had for me to do a free skiing class.  I had never been on snow with a board or skis in any capacity.  After the class we were able to go up the mountain.  Remember, this is my first time ever on skis.  We’re going up and I’m seeing signs about diamonds and circles and squares.  I don’t know what it all means.  Laura explains Black Diamonds are the hardest.  We’re heading towards a Black Diamond.  I don’t even know how to get off a ski lift.

    Garrick and Laura skiing

    I voiced some concern about this, and she told me to quit worrying, I’d be fine.  So, my first time ever on a mountain and I’m doing Black Diamonds.  How could I possibly argue?  Here’s my aunt in her 40’s daring me to say something so she could call me all sorts of wimpy and scared.

    We started down the mountain and I was having a rough go.  I was up and down constantly.  I was spending more time on my back than on my skis.  I hadn’t mastered stopping yet so whenever I gained speed I would fall to keep from losing control.  Laura, meanwhile, was the epitome of consistency.  Left to right… left to right… slow and steady.  She’d get way ahead of me then stop and watch me clumsily fall down the mountain. 

    When we finished, I was exhilarated.  It was the most fun I’d ever had.  I loved the mountain.  We were driving home and I called my mom.  I excitedly told her about the day.  When I mentioned Laura and I went down the mountain together she yelled over the speaker, “Moofy you what?!?!”  Moofy was Laura’s nickname.  I learned that Laura had recently had pelvic surgery on her pelvic bone that had shattered.  I don’t think she was supposed to leave the house.  Her consistent nature down the mountain was partly to protect her frail bones from any potential impact from falling.  In fact, if she fell, she likely would have broken multiple bones.

    I learned something that day that I’ll never forget.  Laura was consistent, smooth, never wavering.  She was steadfast until the end.  She was always an example of strength and perseverance.  They were qualities I admired in her.  The other thing I learned was that Aunt Laura was never going to let anything slow her down.  She didn’t care if she was supposed to stay in bed, she wanted to ski with her nephew.  No wonder she had no sympathy for my worry about Black Diamonds.  I was young, healthy, the worst that was going to happen to me was a sore backside by the end.  She had the real possibility of a shattered bone with any fall.  What did I have to worry about?

    That is one of my fondest memories.  Laura taught me so much and I’m forever grateful for the example she was to me.  It brings me so much comfort to know she’s now moved on from my angel here on earth to my guardian angel in heaven.  I know she’s very busy up there because someone with her will, faith, and drive is being put to work by Heavenly Father.  But, in times when I’m in the most need, I will pray for Heavenly Father to spare her for a brief moment to be with and comfort me.  When I make this request, it warms my heart to know she’s quickly coming to my side.  I am excited to one day see her again and thank her for all she did for me here. 

    Love you, Aunt Laura.

    Rest in peace doesn’t work for you so instead I’ll say, keep busy, and I’ll see you soon.