“Goodness does not consist in greatness, but greatness in goodness.” – Athenaeus
His name was Jeff.
Just another kid in the neighborhood I grew up in. He was a big, lumbering guy who could’ve easily used his bulky size to intimidate, but rather he engaged others by paying attention. When you had a conversation with him, your words mattered. He asked questions and waited. He didn’t hurry to fill in blanks. There wasn’t a need to rush.
Tough characters peppered the block. The kind you’d walk by, lower your eyes and hope they didn’t notice. Jeff never lowered his eyes. Instead his eyes met those who challenged him with crystal clear interest. And this interest permitted all of us lucky enough to be walking with him to walk in peace.
In school, he stood out in an atmosphere where competition thrived. One-upmanship was the name of the game, but popularity wasn’t important to Jeff. Even though forging new personal paths in friendships, grades and all around life seemed to get more complicated with each semester, his stride seemed steady.
He was too interested in life to brood over it. Instead he rejoiced in the magnitude of it all.
“You can’t be grateful and be unhappy,” he’d say.
So he lived gratefully and particularly so for his mom. Every year on his birthday he gave his mom flowers to thank her for having him. A simple note attached, “Thanks, Mama.”
It was rather comical the way he opened doors for girls who went by. Kids rolled their eyes as they passed him, but the truth is he opened doors for anyone that got to that door around the same time he did. Young, old, male, female, it didn’t matter. He always let the other person go first. Kind, generous, loud, goofy, humble – a strange mixture of charm ready and willing to lend a hand.
Grades weren’t his forte. Book learning didn’t come easy for him. Yet no matter his grades, he was the kind of person you wanted to see succeed in life. And you knew he was rooting for you, too.
Perhaps you know someone like him?
As time went by, we lost touch with each other. Life got busy. People moved on, and on the excuses went. No really good excuses, either.
I hope the years since have been good to Jeff. He deserved a first-class flight in life. His neighborhood inspirations were more important to me than the grade I ended up getting in social studies. What grade was that? I don’t remember.
But I do remember Jeff.
I didn’t realize then what a special friend he was. I do now.
It’s been a long time coming.
Thanks, Jeff.
Joan Budilovsky can be reached at editorial@kcchronicle.com or through her website: Yoyoga.com.