I am not sure when I first sat and
thought about the questions, of Who am I?, Where have I been?, Where am I going?
They have probably passed through my mind on such occasions as high school and
college graduations, and at the milestone birthdays of 18, 21, and 30. Today,
the questions once again bump around within the canyons of my mind as I sit in
quiet and pensive meditation. I'm having another birthday. I am turning
35.
There are better areas where I could channel my
energies today other than to sit and ponder such deep, permeating, and
philosophical questions. Yet, at this moment in my life, to do otherwise would
be a futile attempt to escape what is inescapable. If the statistics and
mortality tables are correct, I am just about half way through with my life. The
positive, of course, should be emphasized; I have half more to go. Today,
however, this is not easy. Uncle Ben has died.
If we all have a favorite uncle in our lives, Uncle
Ben was mine. He wasn't a blood relative, just a friend who always seemed to be
there. He was my Godfather, and, since the age of seven when my own father died,
a surrogate father. Today, with all I could remember about him, two events stick
out in my mind.
Uncle Ben once made lunch for me, my cousins, and
some of the other kids in the neighborhood. He made tuna fish sandwiches. I
hated tuna fish, but, Uncle made me eat it anyway. Tears had no effect upon this
man as he stood his ground, and, in a voice that was as threatening as it was
loud, forced me to eat that sandwich. I think I was sick for two weeks after
that lunch. I didn't hate Ben as much as I did that lunch, but I didn't like him
very much either.
When I graduated from grammar school there were
both morning and afternoon ceremonies. The morning ceremony included Mass
followed by a breakfast to honor our fathers. My class had some special
surprises planned for them and my classmates were all very excited. When you
don't have a father, it is hard to get excited about the events and a "who
cares" attitude develops very quickly and very early during the planning stages.
I could not get excited.
My cousin was graduating from grammar school the
same day. His school also had planned morning and afternoon ceremonies and he
took it for granted that his father would be there for both of them. Uncle Ben
had other ideas. In spite of the protests, tears, and pleas of his son, he
attended my Mass and my breakfast. Uncle Ben had found time for both his son and
me that day. He knew about quality time long before it became
"in".
If you asked 100 people you would probably get 100
different answers to the question, what constitutes a successful life. There are
not any ready formulas, standards, or a set pattern by which you could measure
or compare. All of us are placed in so many different circumstances, places, and
times that trying to gauge success becomes all but
impossible.
Very few of climb every mountain, have our busts
placed in the Hall of Fame, or our names etched into the annals of history. Most
of us live rather ordinary and simple lives. If you were to begin to look for a
starting place from which to draw a road map for success, these ordinary and
simple lives would not be the place you would start. They are nothing from which
a road map to success could be drawn, yet, does this give reason to believe we
have not been successful?
I do not know where one begins to look for success,
or how to measure it if you found it. One things seems to be consistent, though,
in all I have seen. Change. Change is the common
denominator.
I believe the best we can hope to do in life is to
change things just a little. If we have made our little corner of the world just
a little bit better than it was before we arrived on the scene, then, I believe
we will have succeeded. If those who have touched our lives are just a little
bit better off because we were there, then we will have made a contribution. We
will have had success.
Uncle Ben was buried on my birthday. Uncle Ben's
life was successful; Very Successful.
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