Things Stolen from Us, Part II

November 28, 2024 in Essays

In our Southern Baptist tradition, we diligently rose from the wooden pews and silently ventured to the front of the funeral home. Around the casket, the Garden of Eden was on full display, with a florist’s bounty of flowers in every direction. In an unassuming casket, I could see the silhouette of my great aunt. Like Hitchcock in profile, I found myself dreading and anxious about the coming moment as I drew closer. Standing on my toes, peering into the box, I laid my eyes on the first dead person I ever saw. The prospect of my own death filled my mind. In that moment, a lifelong fear was born.

Standing near the unforgiving edge of an abyss, that once crossed, will be impossible to find again, I meet the closed eyes of a woman I only knew for a short time. Our relationship hadn’t existed longer than the time it takes to age a cheap bottle of Scotch, but those surrounding me are wiping away tears and longing for better days. Even at a young age, I knew this moment was important. It continues to stay with me. I will never forget the day my innocence was stolen from me.

As we walked away from the casket, I was forever changed. While I wouldn’t necessarily consider the moment traumatic, I remember it emotionally destroying people I love and those who love me. They were being changed in real time. In their wake, so was I.

Standing in the present day reflecting on this moment, I am deeply considering the experience when my innocence was stolen from me. I also think about you and your experiences. I am sure many of us can share a similar story. Almost all of us can pinpoint a moment when everything changed. In conversation with others, this loss of innocence almost always centers around death.

After we said goodbye to my great aunt, I recall having the most vivid nightmares. I combined this experience with all I heard from the pulpit in church. Burning in the fiery pits of hell due to my sinful ways, I remember feeling a separation from the astounding joy of life. This brush with death would send me searching for the cross as insurance in hopes of escaping eternal torment. I longed to know eternal life and a return to some semblance of innocence.

With time and a spiritual journey far removed from the pressures of my upbringing, I have drawn vastly different conclusions about heaven and hell. I have settled on a simple, yet profound truth that makes sense for me. In this life, I will never know if these places exist, but I understand the finite nature of life. I know we die. What happens from there, I will theologians and biblical scholars debate. I also know that once we experience the death of someone we love, life changes drastically.

The veil is lifted, and we are asked to dance with the faults of mankind. We are exposed to our collective wickedness, shortcomings, and selfishness. We see the ways in which we fail each other, and the needless harm we cause each other. The harm may not always be malicious, but the scar remains.

Standing on this open plain, wrestling with the newfound knowledge that all life ends, we come to understand that life is more complicated and complex than our childlike innocence would have us believe. As tough as these lessons might be, they are so necessary. They are meant to protect us. They are a shield, providing a simple choice. We can choose to be better and craft a new path, or we can be consumed by the failures of man.

I choose not to be blinded by the innocence of man, but I also choose not to be consumed by the folly of man. I know there are heroes among us, and the choice to follow in their footsteps is mine. I am not longing for days of innocence, as if death was some toy that can be put away and forgotten. I am thankful for the experience where pain revealed itself. I see that pain. I thank it for revealing itself, and I find myself searching for a different path.

Be good to each other,

Nathan

In Three Parts: Glasses, Part II

September 16, 2020 in Essays

Kids can be cruel. They possess a god-like ability to find the slightest difference and exploit it. At first, it begins with pointing and making public comments. If their parents are decent human beings, they correct them and explain such behavior is not polite. This behavior lasts as long as caring adults remain by their side, but when they are free, they can become darkened clouds gathering like a storm ready to strike on even the subtlest difference.

There was no hiding my glasses. They were big, brown, and covered half of my face. I was terrified of being treated differently and being made fun of because of them. Without a doubt, every word I feared hearing was said to me. Looking back at those words now, they seem harmless but when you are five or six-years-old words like four-eyes, blind, nerd, or dork hurts. It hurt because in the days before arriving at school with my new glasses there were no perceived differences. I was just like everyone else. Now, the sharks were circling, and they could smell blood in the water.

Before me, there were two paths. I could laugh off their insults or I could let it scar me. To me, one path meant isolation and pain. That path could have led to some very dark and disturbing places. Instead, I chose to laugh it off. At an early age, I decided to use sarcasm and my whit to punch back at those making fun of me. My sense of humor would be both my shield and my sword (a weapon I still use to this day).

At first, my new-found weapon was about finding a flaw in those exploiting my difference. Was it their teeth? Their clothes? Their hair? Quickly, I realized I did not want to hurt someone’s feelings. I did not want them to feel as I did. What if upon meeting a person or a group of people, they discovered I was the funniest person in the room? If I could make them laugh instantly and keep them laughing, then we would never discover or talk about our differences. My goal was not to be the class clown. I just wanted to make people laugh. I always have. My sense of humor is mine because I wore glasses and it has protected me since kindergarten.

Be good to each other,

Nathan

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In Three Parts: Glasses, Part I

May 18, 2019 in Essays

For thirty years now, I have been wearing glasses. Since my freshman year of high school, I have been wearing a combination of glasses and contacts. Though, there was once a time when I couldn’t see the birds overhead. I had seen them perched on a tree or darting through the grass, but I had no concept of them soaring high above my head. Once they were above the tree line, I was unsure of the mystical place they called home.

That kid with brown curly hair didn’t know it at the time, but he needed glasses. He would later learn that he is farsighted with astigmatism, but those terms didn’t make sense to a five-year-old. He needed to see the blackboard and do his homework without a headache. His dad was a welder and often worked on projects (sheds mostly) at home. This nearly blind child also needed to quit running into his dad’s newly welded beams or he was going to suffer from serious brain damage.

The kindergarten year marched forward like soldiers incapable of sitting still for too long. Then, without notice, a frightening exam was scheduled. The local optometrist was invited to the school to check the eyesight of all those in my grade. One by one, we were invited into a cleared-out classroom. Before me was a jumble of letters. Row by row, I recited the letters I could read. I placed a black piece of plastic over my left eye and then the right. When I was done, I was told I did a great job and to return to my classroom.

The next day, I was called out of my class. I was told, “you did so well on the exam that we want to have you take it again.” Excited and filled with pride, I read aloud each letter. As the end of chart neared, I soared and thought, “this is how it is done.” Except, I wasn’t there because of my abilities. I was sitting there because of my inabilities. I was lied to by those I trusted.

Later that afternoon, I was sent home with a note to give to my mom and dad. It stated that I needed glasses and they should schedule an eye exam as soon as possible. Soon, plastic, 80’s style frames would adorn my face and the era of sight would begin. Unknown to me, a new era would be born because kids some differences like sharks smell blood in the water. My glasses would be the feast they were looking for in the ocean that is a schoolyard playground.

Be good to each other,

-Nathan

Explorers

April 13, 2016 in Essays

No wonder I’m fascinated by *Shackleton –

his Arctic expedition filled with both brilliance and failure.

We’re on a sinking ship too, no doubt,

and I suppose I’m the captain.

(So I let them club some baby seals today.)

Inner city kids-kindred spirits with the crew of the Endurance-

watching it fall apart around them,

seeing beautiful things where other simply can’t,

realizing trust and respect are more priceless than the treasure others trade for.

They will not die because times are hard-

they just get harder.

But this isn’t Antarctica yet.

(Let them be little.)

4/12/16

s. Jensen

*Sir Ernest Henry Shackleton was a polar explorer who led three expeditions to the Antarctic, and one of the principal figures of the period known as the Heroic Age of Antarctic Exploration. Shackleton attempted the crossing of Antarctica from sea to sea. Disaster struck this expedition when its ship, Endurance, became trapped in pack ice and was slowly crushed and sank before the crew could be landed at their final destination.

Guest Spot: Wes Warner

August 26, 2014 in Essays

Guest Spot is a recurring post on the Natetheworld. For the topic, we provide a guest author a video, story or article. They then write a response. This month, we are featuring a friend of mine from my UCO days, Wes Warner.

To read the article Wes responded to, click here.

I’ve done a lot of traveling over the last month, Nepal, Bangladesh, and most recently, San Diego, California. I do not consider myself old but I do have some miles on the chassis and so as I think about where I’ve lived, how I’ve lived, and where I’m going to live, there are some constraints to those decisions.

I would love to say I’m packing up tomorrow and moving to Kathmandu. But as a single parent that’s not a possibility at this point. The author in the article talks of the responsibilities of adulthood. I believe that it is not adulthood that necessarily secures us to a set of constraints, it is parenthood. That being said, I love being a father, and a single dad at that, so let’s not think I’m against parenthood, it just constrains the freedom of adulthood. If you’re a parent reading this and you feel insulted, stop for a minute and think about it, you know I’m right.

Other than taking care of the children, what keeps you in a boring, stuffy, stressful, ohmygodIneedatherapist job? Your things? Material, sell them, all of them if you want, and leave. A car, house, boat, RV payment? That was a choice and one you can easily change, children not so much, so if you want or need a change, make it!

You don’t even have to immediately learn a new language, stay in your home country, just find a new place to, as George Carlin would say, “Keep your stuff.” But to pack up and find a whole new country for an adventure, there is the salt of life!

How to work this journey? It’s simple and the author is right, start young before the children, before the bills, start with higher education. I’m not advocating six figure debt to an institution, but I believe building a network in college or trade school is essential to learning new culture, potential, and seeing how small the world truly is once you’re in it.

To explore your unknown as an adult whether totally alone or with another adult is exciting. But you need to be patient and able to relax in the moment. Not everything will go according to your plan, so if you’re overly obsessive toward controlling your environment, perhaps you should stay in the safety and comfort of home. But one thing, all of the dreamers and successful entrepreneurs I know, did not stay home, they wandered.

Build a network, know people outside of your hometown and live outside of your box. I did and I wouldn’t change anything about where I lived to this point in my life. I think it would have been different and I would have gone many more places, but I had children to care for and that changes the dynamic. I will say though, my oldest was five when we live in South Korea and she was just shy of seven when we left. She had a marvelous time and we lived in the economy, our neighbors spoke no English, but we survived and had a great time.

As I said before, I am a single parent. My daughter is a special needs child and so my thoughts of swiftly moving to Kathmandu will stay thoughts, at least for the time being. But if I had no children, what would I do? I would leave and find a great adventure in Nepal, Bangladesh, or perhaps Dubai. Three excellent places I visited recently. I liked San Diego well enough so don’t get me wrong, but it’s the grand foreign adventure that would sweep me away. Life on the edge and by the seat of your pants.

As a young person how do you see the world and live anywhere? Educate yourself on skills that transcend cultures, IT, welding, flight attendant (Emirates and Qatar hire all nationalities), if you master their language waiting tables can help get you by in a pinch. Join AmeriCore or some other non-profit that will afford you the opportunity to see many different places and work closely with the population. Research online and see where you would like to live. Be young and see the world.

It’s the thrill of freedom. The knowledge that you and you alone are your responsibility. Backpacking into an unknown city, finding a place to lay your head, eat, work, maybe put down some roots, however permanent they may turn out to be, that is the thrill.

I’ve taken advantage of those times where I could adventure in a foreign city, whether still in the states or in a land far away, I’ve always taken that step. One basic premise is listen to the locals, they’ll tell you how to get along and get around. If you’re courteous you’ll make friends just about anywhere.

I’m happy where I am in life right now but I do often wish that I had taken more of the roads less traveled to see more of what was on the other side of the mountain, over the rainbow, around the bend, or down that left hand turn at Albuquerque, are we sure that it’s Pismo Beach?

Carpe diem!