2 Thoughts (2023)

“2 Thoughts” is an ongoing series on Natetheworld where a special guest and I respond to a published story in the manner of our choosing. Enjoy! 

What They Said & What Will Say by Nathan Box  

Slipping deeper into a sense of loss, I watched as our country spiraled into chaos caused by a global pandemic. That pandemic denied me a hike of the Pacific Crest Trail. It was pitting me against an unfavorable job market. It was keeping me from making Seattle my home once again. My heart felt broken, and I was unsure about my ability to handle anything else. Then, on May 16th, 2020, my phone rang. It was a phone call I had been fearing for some time.  

Hearing the sadness in my mom’s voice, I knew something was wrong. As she struggled to string together words that must have felt impossible to say aloud, my mind raced furiously. I could hear the tears in her eyes. The audible shakiness is something I will never forget. With all the strength she could muster, she told me, “Eldon passed away a few hours ago.”  

The axis of my world shifted. Unsure of what to do next, I helplessly gravitated toward a need to know what happened. As best as she could, she recounted the morning’s events. We then discussed what would happen next. We closed the call after discussing the arrangements that needed to be made. I told her I would be there as soon as possible and hung up the phone.  

Of all the questions I have asked my mother about that day and everything that led up to it, I have never asked her about the last words they said to each other. Watching the video that is the impetus for this essay, I am naturally curious, but refuse to ask.  

They probably didn't have a well-scripted conversation for their last words to each other. I doubt there were grand exclamations of love. I do not think apologies hung thick in the air. What went unsaid, but deeply understood, was probably much more profound. That moment and the moments before my father passed belong to them. I dare not intrude.  

Staring across the queen-sized bed, I watch my partner sleep. He does not realize he is being studied at this moment. With this story fresh in my mind, I drift to thoughts of our eventual end. These thoughts are not morbid. I think about who will pass first. How will the other person cope with that loss and life alone? What will our last words to each other be? Will it afford us an opportunity to express our love, or will suddenness rob us of a meaningful goodbye? Pondering this, I fall back asleep.  

When I wake, a sudden realization greets me and the new day. There is no reason to wait. There is no need for a script. There is no need to worry about time robbing me of the perfect words to encapsulate our long and storied relationship. Now, and in every moment moving forward, I can choose to show Brandon how much he means to me. I can start crafting a love that Brandon will understand long after my time on this planet is finished through my service, action, and words. Our last moment together does not have to be perfect. With minutes, hours, days, and years to count before that date with destiny, the greatest love I have ever known can live on without questioning what he has meant to me.  

Be good to each other,  

Nathan  

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The Last Conversation by S. Jensen

I once wrote a poem called “A Slow Death is for the Selfish”, as my grandfather was fighting lung cancer. I stand by its sentiment, even as I’m facing the second anniversary of my mother’s sudden death. It feels impossible to watch a story of death or grief and not think of my own losses–it’s such a universal experience, processed individually. Watching Isidore and Sarah dancing their beautiful, domestic dance across six decades could only end in heartbreak.

Being left with one parent where you’d always had two is confounding. Every relationship has a language all its own that no one else speaks. The healthiest and most fun also has a deep culture unto its own, and even their child is only partially welcome. When half the team is gone, there’s no one left to translate. I don’t know how this feels–not yet–but it’s my new biggest fear and it can be suffocating. 

Isidore and Sarah’s last conversation is the illustration of how he cared for her in sickness and likely in health. We see how he needed to keep caring for her even when he wasn’t physically there anymore. As someone’s adult child, I hope finding this message gives Robert peace. There’s always going to be a phone call not returned, a visit not made quickly enough, and something left unsaid. I’ve spent most of my life trying to do all things for all people and they still get sick, they still die. We’re simply not that powerful. 

What is that powerful, is love. That’s it. Loving people while we have them, however we can. Maybe by giving them patience and peace of mind, if we can’t give them our presence.

 s.jensen

8/25/23

Discipline

Today I had a great conversation, one that will stay with me for years, I think. It didn’t surprise me because I have meaningful talks with this guy often. He’s insightful, funny, tough, and intelligent. But today he messed up. More accurately, today is when I found out he messed up. Because of his positive reputation up to now, we spent lunch having what we call “a strong talk”, while the paperwork for a referral for either in-school suspension or lunch or after-school detention sat there as I asked his version of the story.

As usual, he told me the truth, as difficult as it was for him to do. Then he kept talking. He let me know why he’s starting to get angry—what’s happening around him and within him. He gave no excuses for his behavior.  He even said if he were the other boy involved how he would feel. There was no violence, just hateful words. He understands I feel as strongly about hate-filled words as I do physical violence. It was uncharacteristic, and that’s why it stood out. Boys will not just be boys all the time. That is a societal cop out. Not when it incites fear. Not when it’s disguised as a “joke”. And not when I find out the source of the anger and it’s fixable. I told him the consequences, part of which backfired. {Lunch detention doesn’t work when the kid wants to eat lunch with his teacher because school is almost over and he’s sad about that.}

There are hard days at this school, with this age. Nothing was harder than looking this child in his eyes and telling him I was disappointed in him. But it had to be said, and it had to be said by me. Nothing else made me realize more that I was made for this than when I could have this talk with him, and provide whatever discipline was necessary. It would mean more; it would hurt him in the right, fair way. No yelling, no accusations. A conversation.

I told him he is one of the very reasons I get up and teach every day. He helped me find my purpose in life, without ever trying. He doesn’t have to be perfect, but he does have to choose his friends wisely. I reminded him every child in that school deserves to feel as safe and cared for as he does by all of us, and the boy he was unkind to is a favorite of mine too, and it will be made right. That’s HIS job. We’ll see. I know I put a lot of trust in children, but only in the ones who have earned it. Damn it, it’s tough when they violate that trust. But it’s not personal; they’re trying to figure out who they are. And that’s an exact quote from a very wise 11 year old.

Soccer, family, girls, becoming somebody, and respect are the most important things to him. He asked me if I still respected him before we left.

I told him I never stopped.

s. Jensen

5-5-1

The Best Conversation I Ever Had

Like a newly formed geyser, life altering conversations can spring up out of nowhere. You may find yourself in the midst of a one on one meeting or surrounded by a group of people. Maybe you came to shoot the breeze or, perhaps, you are on the hunt for some much needed wisdom. Whatever the case may be, these conversations hit you like a ton of bricks. They open up the world and show you a new way of viewing things. They may offer an epiphany or just the right amount of encouragement.

In my life, I have been privileged to be on the receiving end of quite a few of these conversations. More times than I count, those talks were had with one person; Cassie Cole.

Cassie and I have known each other for almost 15 years. We don’t talk often, maybe once or twice a year. Sometimes it is on the phone. Sometimes it is via text. If I am lucky, it is face to face. She is a Republican. I am a Democrat. She is Catholic. I am agnostic. We are both dedicated to servant leadership. We are passionate, intellectually curious, loyal, and possess a deep, abiding love for our friends and family. We both claim Frederick, OK as home. Our conversations work, because we are interested in learning and growing. Here, I think Cassie can provide some lessons for us all.

Cassie does something both amazing and simple when you speak with her; she listens, really listens. She actively listens to the words coming out of your mouth. She does her best to never interrupt. She provides proper pause before speaking. For some of us, myself included, these skills are near impossible. We are often more concerned with how we appear. We stumble all over ourselves to say something funny or intelligent. We are too concerned with winning the day with our argument or opinion. When we do this, we miss out on an opportunity to learn and grow. We avoid a chance to have our worldview changed. The exchange of wisdom passes us by without notice.

Cassie also does something pretty profound (something we could all learn to do better), she delays judgment. Make no mistake, she may disagree with every fiber of her being with what you are saying, yet she still listens. She always allows me to make my point and express myself. Then, calmly, she expresses herself. With the precision of a surgeon, she makes valid point after valid point. As she does, I learn and I grow. I experience a different way of looking at the world. As I hear her talk, I know I am being changed.

She is also one of the few friends that I have who gives wisdom freely and without the expectation of something in return. The best example of this power that I have happened during my first Christmas after losing Lucas. We both happened to be in Frederick seeing family. Soon, we were together again sharing a drink at Sonic and later talking late into the night at her parent’s house. Without me having to tell her so, she understood the complexity of the moment and the emotions inside me. She allowed me to talk, sit with my thoughts, and breathe a sigh of relief when needed. Then she did what she does best. She gave her most gracious gift of wisdom. Her words centered me and brought me back to the things for which I should be thankful. She did this never expecting me to be able to return the favor, but she should know, if she ever needs me, I’ll be there.

Besides being one of the best listeners and conversationalists that I know, she also happens to be one of my favorite human beings in the world. For years, I have had the pleasure of admiring her both up close and from afar. Time and time again she has provided life lessons that I keep with me to this day. I decided to write this post for two reasons. First, I think Cassie provides a terrific example of how we should conduct ourselves in the presence of others. Secondly, I think we should all do a better job of letting people know how much they matter to us. With that said, Cassie, thank you.

Be good to each other,

-Nathan 

Around the Dinner Table

Growing up in my parent’s home, there really was no option. Sunday through Thursday we ate together as a family around the dinner table. Friday was for TV trays, Kid Cuisine dinners and TGIF on ABC. On Saturday, we would go to Pick A’ Flick and rent a movie. The smell of pizza filled the air as we laid out blankets and pillows on the floor making ourselves comfortable for family movie night. Other than those two exceptions to the rule, we always ate dinner at the table.

More than food was dished out at my parent’s table; a buffet of life’s lessons was also served. There I learned of the horror of wars, life during the 60’s and 70’s, what it was like to hear Jimmy Hendrix play guitar or to see The Doors perform in San Francisco. I also learned of love, grace and forgiveness. There, my father learned to treat me as an equal. I learned to respect his wisdom. I watched as my mom created wonderful meals with her two hands. She often invited me to help and because of those moments I now love to cook for my family and friends. Seated at that old wooden table, I watched my brothers grow, change and become men. From my seat, I strived to be an example for them both.

Looking back through the lens of time, I will cherish those moments eating and talking together for the rest of my life. My kitchen table doesn’t get used as much as it should, but when it fills with those whom I love I am instantly taken back to busiest room in my childhood home. At the time, the conversations didn’t seem that impactful. I often left the table focused on what we ate, what I heard or a disagreement with my dad. Looking back, everything and everyone who has ever mattered to me has sat around that table. Some of those people, I will never eat and talk with again, yet there will always be a chair for their memory at my parent’s table.

When life becomes too challenging and the issues of the day too pressing, I wish I could go back there. When phone calls, texts or messages won’t do, I wish I could sit down to a warm plate of my mother’s cooking. When I need guidance, I wish I could be surrounded by their love and laughter. One of the great unspoken hardships of adult life, is the pain you feel as you cling to moments and opportunities never fully appreciated. The time spent around that dinner table is one of those moments for me.

There I gained wisdom from the people I love the most. I am who I am, in part, because we ate dinner together as a family. One day, my house will be filled with people who I love. Without a doubt, the television will be silenced, hands will be washed, thanks given, food served, conversation had and love materialized in the most simple of terms.

Be good to each other,

-Nathan  

Adding Value to the Conversation

There is a global conversation happening all around us. The birth and popularity of social media have increased the number of people contributing to the conversation. In many ways, this is a good thing. When coupled with the freedom of speech, the conversation is no longer controlled by the rich, powerful, and well connected. With that power though, I often wonder if we are adding value to the conversation. 

In graduate school, it was hard to not succumb to the temptation of raising my hand every time a question for discussion was proposed. With participation points acting as the devil on my right shoulder, I developed a filter: Does what I have to say add value to the conversation? If it did, I raised my hand. If it didn't, I worked to stay actively engaged in the conversation. 

I am now beyond graduate school, yet this filter stays with me. Why? Clutter, that's why. When I was an undergraduate fraternity member, Daniel Stockton and I were having a conversation about leadership. I left him with a parting thought; "Your actions should demonstrate you're a person worth listening to." If we want to add value to the global conversation, we must do more than speak. We must also go about the business of doing. 

So, I've applied these rules to my life. Not every thought that comes to my mind is worth sharing, posting, or tweeting. This filter helped me realize that. I still fail. I say silly things, post pointless things on social media, and write blog posts unworthy of reading. I would also like to think I am a person worth listening to and when I do share I am adding value to the conversation. 

Thanks for entering my world, 

-Nathan