May 2020
Hello from Orlando!
This isn’t the newsletter I was supposed to send you today.
I was supposed to write about how strange the last few months have been.
I was supposed to tell you how we were now in week 12 of quarantine. About how it’s been twelve weeks since we’ve had haircuts. Twelve weeks of social distancing. Twelve weeks without driving around doing things parents of two young boys would do.
I was supposed to tell you about my oldest son graduating from elementary school. About the drive-by graduation that his teachers put together which he absolutely loved.
I was supposed to tell you about my youngest son and how strange it is watching him do Zoom calls at seven years old, something his daddy, at 42, does on a regular basis.
I was supposed to tell you all about my progress with the new Blake Jordan novel. About a new writing technique I came up with and how it’s helping me write faster.
In fact, I finished the newsletter early this morning. It was done and all ready to go.
But I felt it was the wrong message. And I’ve been learning to trust my gut more lately.
It’s been almost a week since the death of George Floyd. We’ve all seen the video by now. We’ve all been watching the news and we’ve seen how the protesters have reacted. There’s a lot of sadness over what has happened. And it’s understandable.
But what bothers me the most, I think, is how someone should’ve done something.
There were other police officers standing by, doing nothing. There were onlookers, yelling and pleading for someone to step in, but they too ultimately did nothing. For eight minutes and forty-six seconds, a man waited for a hero to show up. No one did.
Every time I watch the video I wonder, What would I have done if I had been there? Would I have helped? Would I have done something? Or just recorded it on my phone?
I was a communications major at UCF. I studied Robert Cialdini and I learned all about how what the crowd does tends to influence how we ourselves act. I learned about how difficult it can be to do something different, even when we know it’s the right thing, when we see everyone around us doing what we know deep down is the wrong thing…
It can be hard to know when we’re in our “moment of truth.” Sometimes because it’s too surreal in the moment. Or maybe because we downplay what we see happening.
It’s easy to stand with the crowd.
But It takes courage to stand alone.
I think that’s why we enjoy reading stories. They’re almost always done the same way. The person least likely to become the hero is ultimately the one who becomes one. It goes all the way back to heroes in the Bible and how the least likely person to bring about change was used, in one way or another, to help make the world a better place.
Gideon thought he was a coward, but he was really a conquerer.
Moses thought he couldn’t speak in front of others, yet he became a great leader.
The crowd thought David was small and insignificant, but he defeated a mighty giant.
Whenever I’m reading a page-turner or watching a good movie, I know to keep an eye on the underdog. I know that, if the story is going to be a good one, I’ll be watching a transformation of some kind. And when they ultimately do create change or change themselves in the end, I know it’ll be a story that will stay with me for the rest of my life.
And I try to remember the lesson of the story, its theme, so I can grow as a person.
Because I like to think, if others can change and rise to the occasion, maybe I can, too.