Four months ago, I was sitting in a bar with Ryan and Dan Healy, and Penelope. It was Inauguration Day. We watched our country make history swearing in the 44th President of the United States.
The room was a can of sardines, but more optimistic. Tangled in a motley web of businessmen, congressmen and college students, we parked it next to a middle-aged bald guy. Pulling out a shot glass from his jacket pocket and slamming it on the table, he asked the barkeep to pour some whiskey.
“Hey,” he said. “Would you guys like to take a shot with me?”
Dan and I looked at one another, then back at the guy. “Sure,” we decided.
“It means a lot that you both are doing this with me,” he said. “I’ll tell you why after Obama takes his oath.”
We sat there, quietly sipped on beers, listened to Biden take his oath, then Obama. Looking over at our friend, I saw tears.
“Cheers,” he said. We took our shots. I forgot what whiskey tasted like midday on a Tuesday. Closing my eyes for a moment, I regained my composure. When opened them, the man was pointing to a pin he was wearing on his chest, a young man in uniform holding a puppy.
“This is my son,” he said. “He died in Iraq four years ago.”
He told us how passionate his son was to go into the Middle East—keen on making the world a better place—only to find himself appalled by how everything was being done. He couldn’t wait to come home and dedicate his life to changing America’s foreign policies.
He never got to do that, but his fortitude lived on through his father. Obama’s Inauguration—in his eyes—was the catalyst for change that his son had dreamed about.
“On Memorial Day,” he said, “do me a favor.”
“Tell my son’s story to someone … anyone.” He just wanted his son’s story to be told. And today, I’m doing the best I can to live up to my promise.
During the month of May, two amazing bloggers, Sam Davidson and Matt Chevy, teamed up to get young bloggers talking about change. I couldn’t think of what to write about. Then I remember the promise I kept to that stranger on Inauguration Day and the lesson that I learned.
It has nothing to do with politics, or foreign policy, or Republicans versus Democrats. It’s about the power each of us has to make a difference today, right now, if we’re devoted enough and perseverant enough to make things happen. It’s a fragile gift, because we never know when that chance might be taken from us.
I’ve been thinking a lot today about the people I know whose dreams of cultivating change were cut too short. Like my friend Kaity, who might have lived on to help save the rainforests if she didn’t die of an over dose two years ago. Or my friend Chris, who would have made one kick-ass electrical engineer if he didn’t die tragically in a fire before he even graduated college. And of course, Sgt. Mark Allen Maida … a total stranger to me if it wasn’t for his father.
As another Memorial Day drifts past, and we all go back to work, school or whatever else we do with our time, let’s try not to forget how easy it is to fall back into idle behaviors. Let’s try to remain focused on the things in our lives that we want to and need to change.
Change isn’t enclosed in bubble wrap. It’s not going to wait until we’re ready to commit. And when the chance has gone, we rarely get a chance like it again.
Top photo via spudart on Flickr.
