Inside a Paragraph or Two

They say a poor man makes the paper only twice in the Deep South, unless he breaks the law or plays football. The newspapers record the happenstance of his birth, and the inevitability of his death. If he was not an important man, or at least born to important people, it is unlikely that, either time, a great deal of ink was spilled. A lot of great men have lived and died down here inside a paragraph or two. – from The Best Cook in the World, by Rick Bragg

Today, I am a bit of a funeral crasher - writing about a great man I did not know and a funeral I did not attend. What I know about him will not fill a paragraph or two. Well, maybe more – we shall see.

You see, a friend of mine, let’s call her Faith for she has plenty (in God, mankind, individuals, and, mysteriously, the Baltimore Ravens). Faith has been telling me of this man and his funeral. When a co-worker also mentioned him, I knew he was someone special. Many attended his funeral, the small suburban Methodist church was not big enough for all that wanted to pay their respects. I hope, a small comfort to his family.

Let’s call the man Bob – Why? He was a palindrome, Faith tells me, a genuine person front and back.

If we are put on this planet to make it a better place before we leave, Bob fulfilled his mission. Bob died in his sleep – the cause unknown. Perhaps, bad habits caught up with him. Maybe only the good die young (age 57 - very young these days). We want to know the cause, but is that important?

Most people only get a paragraph or two because they, like Bob, don’t sell papers. Exceptions sell papers. People like Bob are not exceptions, they are exceptional. They do the basics:

Love others as themselves.
Treat other as they would have others treat them.
Help those less fortunate than themselves.

In the internet age, we forget most people are great. We scour the internet to commit verbal fistfights. We only remember people are great at funerals.

Giving a tribute at Bob’s funeral, a speaker noted that the two eulogists were words in the dictionary: coach and servant. Bob was too. A coach in youth athletics, a servant to his family and staff. Does this make Bob exceptional? Absolutely! Does it merit a paragraph or two? Is that important?

Pico Iyer, in the Introduction to The Best Spiritual Writing – 2010, wrote of the Dalai Lama:

I saw an interviewer come into the bullet-train carriage in which we were sitting and ask the Dalai Lama the question any of us might ask: "If you could wave a magic wand, what would you do to resolve the situation in the Middle East?"

The leader of the Tibetans looked at the young man with his usual attentiveness and directness and said, as warmly as an old friend might, "Silly question!" If he had a magic wand, he was implying, he would find a cure for cancer, bring us universal peace, resolve the Chinese-Tibetan tangle in an instant, and perhaps guarantee humanity the happiness that otherwise we have to work for. But he was just a human being like the journalist, he explained - prey to the same temptations, challenges, even sorrows.

True. But, perhaps the Dalai Lama was also saying we all have a magic wand. And, the great men and women that live inside a paragraph or two wave their wands at friends, family, and community.

We have all attended Bob’s funeral. We have all murmured wonderful thoughts to each other about someone now gone. Find your great person before they are gone and have a conversation. And: