Well, the semester is over; those uneducational final grades that have
little if anything to do with learning are in; my angelic Susan thankfully is
recovering slowly but nicely from her successful spinal operation; we've got
relatives coming in from out-of-town to be with Susan next week; we have my
sons on call in the wings thereafter if they're needed; and, reluctantly--very
reluctantly--Friday night I'm off to China for a tad over three weeks to teach
in the remainder of the Study Abroad program.
A few days ago, as if I was a guest on "Actor's Studio,' a student
asked me how would I like my life to be measured as I stood before the pearly
gates. Her question took me back to an incident that occurred the previous
Sunday. Well, it didn't really take me back since it never has left me.
Anyway, that Sunday was the first day of my congregation's fund-raising
corn-beef sandwich sale that has become a tradition in Valdosta. I was running
around like a proverbial chicken without its head. I was especially working
hard since I couldn't help significantly with all the preparations leading up
to the sale because I was tending to Susan; and, on Monday, when the rush
really would hit and we'd push over 3,000 sandwich luncheons out the door,
Susan would be in surgery. As I was filling orders from the endless line of
cars coming through our makeshift pass-through, a friend came up to me and
grabbed my arm, telling me that someone inside the synagogue wanted to see me.
I replied that I didn't have the time and to tell him I'm busy.
"Make the time," Carl answered firmly. "He said he came to eat his
sandwich in the synagogue especially to see if he could talk with you."
Reluctantly, I got off the line for what I thought was going to be a
mere hello and handshake. Carl brought a gray haired man up to me. He
tightly grabbed my hand, looked intensely into my eyes, and with a shaky voice
introduced himself and said, "Dr. Schmier, I know you don't remember me, but I
had you for class the first quarter you were here at the college ...."
"August, 1967? I don't want to know about that. Hey, I'm too young to
have had you in class way back then," I interrupted with a laugh, making a joke
about my longevity at the University.
But, I did not expect what he was about to say. It certainly was
neither "mere" nor "joke." Not hearing me, keeping my hand firmly in his grasp
and his eyes focused on me, he went on, "I know you're busy, but for a long
time I've wanted you to know that you changed my life in that class. You kept
on me and forced me to see abilities and potentials in me that you saw and I
didn't. You never let me settle for 'getting by' because you saw how 'amazing'
I could be. Because of you, I am the person and businessman I am. You taught
me what I needed to be a successful businessman and live a good life."
After all these decades! Twenty-five years before my epiphany! In the
years that I later judged myself to be an aloof, demanding s.o.b of a
pontificating, judgmental professor intent on making a scholarly name for
himself. You want to talk about being stunned? I felt like all the air had
been sucked out from my lungs. I froze. Stopped breathing. Went limp. It
was suddenly hot. No, there was nothing "mere" or "joking" in the sincerity
of his words. He said more, but I don't really remember. Now, it was my turn
for glassy eyes and shaky voice. All I could muster was a soft, humble,
stuttering, "Thank you, that means a great deal to me, more than you can know."
I promised to have lunch with him immediately after I returned from China in
June. With a deep breath, a very deep breath, I wiped my eyes and I went back
on the line.
So, my answer to this student was quick and simple: "I want to be
measured by a man named Jim Hathaway. I've concluded that by any measure, I
will not be assessed by dollars or reputation, by degrees, titles, or
publications, but by the individual people whose lives I've touched knowingly
or otherwise. I think that's the way it works, and anyone who thinks otherwise
is in for a big surprise. For a long time, a few months short of the last
twenty years in fact, I have not been concerned with the level of individual
prominence I may have achieved, about my degrees, title, resume, bank account,
cars, clothes, houses, or any material stuff like that; I've not been concerned
with the length of my resume; I've not been concerned with awards and
recognitions. I've learned that it's all about what some call 'connection;' I
call it 'compassionate listening' with my ears and eyes. I've learned that
it's crucial to listen with the willingness to serve and help others, not to
judge or to argue or sometimes even to answer and to react. I've learned to
just to listen intensely with all my attention, and deeply care with all my
heart, and profoundly understand with all my soul. So, I want to be measured
by individuals I've seen, listened to, understood, cared about, loved, had
faith in, had hope for, and have helped become better people; I want to be
measured by those people who I have helped graduate not just as good students,
but as good persons as well. I admit that is a very challenging commitment to
keep every day, to compassionately listen to each and every student rather than
conditionally and selectively as I did in the days Jim Hathaway was a student.
Every day that commitment is tested, and I don't always pass it. Every day I
think, as I think we all should, about the measure by which my life will be
judged, learn from my inevitable mistakes, and live better every day so I can
measure up to that measure. In the end, my life will be judged by the extent
to which I have been significant in someone's life, not by having been
prominent and important in my life. You see, I have concluded that to have
lived a rich life is not to have lived a Metamucil life because it has nothing
to do with being regular. It's about being extraordinary; it's about getting
the most from each moment of each day; it's about transforming 'good enough,'
'getting by,' or even 'not good enough,' into 'amazing;' it's about making a
difference in someone's life; it's about doing significant things. That's the
real substance of life. Like I have said many times, I would merely like it to
be said at my eulogy and written on my tombstone, 'He touched one student and
changed the world.' That's how I want my life to be measured."
Signing off until I return from China in early June.
Make it a good day
-Louis-
Louis Schmier
http://www.therandomthoughts.edublogs.org
Department of History http://www.therandomthoughts.com
Valdosta State University
Valdosta, Georgia 31698 /\ /\ /\ /\
/\
(O) 229-333-5947 /^\\/ \/ \ /\/\__ / \ /
\
(C) 229-630-0821 / \/ \_ \/ / \/ /\/ / \
/\ \
//\/\/ /\ \__/__/_/\_\/
\_/__\ \
/\"If you want to climb
mountains,\ /\
_ / \ don't practice on mole
hills" - / \_
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