The Large Man Chronicles

I love my home.

I love my hometown.

My Christian friends tell me all the time, “God never gives you more than you can handle…”.

If my Christian friends are right, God must think I’m some kind of badass.

Welcome back to The Large Man Chronicles…it’s been a year since my last confession.

Before we start, I would like to set the table by sharing a few of my Large Man truths. These are things that I sincerely believe, you don’t have to…but you would be wrong if you don’t. (Just kidding…except not really).

Large truth #1:
If we spend too much time trying to wrap our heads around all the “what ifs” and the “what could have beens” that we face in our daily lives, it’s easy to become paralyzed and trapped by all the scenarios we can imagine. It would keep us from swimming in the ocean, riding roller coasters, learning to drive, singing karaoke, or asking out girls who are out of our league. This would be a terrible existence.

Large truth #2:
Someone always has it worse. AND…someone will always tell you who it is or was, especially if it was them.

If you have your arm in a cast, someone will ask, “How did that happen?”. Then they will tell you about the time they broke their arm…and it will always be worse. If your arm was broken while falling down the stairs at an apartment building, their arm was broken while falling down an elevator shaft at the Empire State building. I once had surgery for a torn ACL. I spent 6 months in a knee brace of some sort or another, and I heard every knee surgery story there was. I was lucky, because they were all worse than mine.

But here is why it is a Large truth…it’s accurate. There is always someone who has it worse.

Take the most extreme suffering you have ever experienced, and someone will have been through, or heard about, something worse. I won’t give examples in this Chronicle, because I can be overzealous with the morbid and macabre…and this is a family show.

Large truth #3:
Although it’s true that someone always has it worse, you can only relate to what you can relate to.

If you are in a car accident, and you’re in the hospital for 2 weeks from the injuries, your level of suffering is not diminished because the person in the other car was hospitalized for 8 weeks.

You’re not lucky, because it could have been worse. You’re not lucky at all! You were in a horrible car accident. You’re gonna miss work. You’re gonna miss Christmas. You’re gonna walk with a limp for a long time. Girls won’t sleep with you because of your temporary lameness.

Oh sure, at first, everyone will be sympathetic and helpful (except for the girls you want to sleep with). But after the novelty of their goodwill and charitable hearts wears out, the help with your crutches and your briefcase will disappear. It’s just a matter of time before they start asking you to “hurry up”. Then they’ll start calling you, “gimp”, or “hop-a-long”. Then DJ will think it would be hilarious to put petroleum jelly on the tips of your crutches so they’ll have no traction on linoleum. Then you fall. People laugh. Friendships are destroyed… Yes, someone always has it worse, it just doesn’t feel that way when you are splayed out on the linoleum floor at the Smithsonian, in front of your “friends”, in a puddle of your own urine and a few dabs of Vaseline.

***

My house was hit by a tornado last Sunday. My home…my place that I love.

Here are the sterile numbers of the story:

At 8:20 PM EDT, on Sunday, April 14th 2019, an F2 tornado knocked a 106-foot-tall, 44-inch wide, basswood tree, (heretofore referred to as “Big Daddy”) into my 90 some-year-old, brick home. The event took less than 30 seconds. We lost power, phone service, and internet. The tree took out 5 other trees, and a large portion of my roof. Big Daddy fell across my driveway taking a 30-year-old, 30 ft tall, beautiful Holly tree (heretofore referred to as “Holly”) with him. Big Daddy and Holly, missed my son’s car by 8”. (Yes, I measured all this stuff) Finally, an 80-foot-tall white pine tree (heretofore referred to as “Piney”) was split by the storm winds. Half the tree stayed erect (hee hee…erect), the other half fell into my neighbor’s yard and on top of her covered porch. It continued to storm after the tornado left, and gallons of water leaked into our master bedroom, and our son’s bedroom. We could do nothing but put down buckets, lay down for the night in other rooms, and pray to God (who apparently has as much faith in me as I have in him) that everything would be taken care of in the morning.

It was a real mess, but I was lucky.

Houses get hit by tornados all the time. In fact, according to Statistical Twisters, a storm chaser website, the odds of a house getting hit by a tornado are 1 in 10 thousand. (Can’t be accurate, but it was on the internet, and it makes for a better story) However…and here’s the good part…the odds of a house being hit twice, is 1 in 100 million.

LUCKY US!!! This is our second hit! We’re 1 in 100 million. What could be worse than that?

The first time was also on a Sunday. Sunday, June 5th, 2016, at approximately 3:00 PM EDT, an F1 tornado knocked several branches off of a Bradford Pear tree (we won’t name these) and an extremely Large maple tree in our yard. Those branches slammed into my house, and between the wind, and the branches, we lost about a third of our roof.

Oh…and not for nuthin’… at 8:33 AM EDT on June 17th, 2017…the morning after my daughter’s high school graduation (GO Dragons!!), a 2017 Dodge Challenger, jet black with red racing stripes, slammed into a curb across the street from my house…the driver panicked, overcorrected, pressed the accelerator pedal instead of the brake pedal, drove through my front yard, became airborne at my flowerbed, and crashed into the northeast corner of my garage…breaking up the building, my concrete driveway, and smashing the can where we store our dog’s poop until trash day…which is Sunday…and this was Saturday. So, in addition to the damage to my house, we lost a full can of shit.

3 out of the last 4 calendar years, my house has had its ass kicked by forces beyond our control.

But…we’re lucky. That’s what I keep hearing.

The what ifs and the what could have beens are horrible to think about. These 3 strikes are events…things that happened that are now funny stories to write about on a blog page, and to tell from a barstool. Inches and seconds are what kept these “events” from becoming disasters…tragedies. But I’m not sure I would call it “luck”.

If the car that hit my house in 2017 had come in 2 minutes earlier, it would have crashed into my garage, AND my wife, as she was depositing our dog’s morning glory. It would be hard to imagine a person surviving that impact. At the very least, she would have been covered in a week’s worth of dog poop. Who would want to survive that?

When the 2016 tornado hit my house, I was driving west, and passed through the weather system that was creating all the havoc. I had to find sanctuary at a rest stop on the interstate, as the hail was so Large, I was worried that it would break my windshield or beat up my car. I called home to tell Mrs. Large Man that a storm was headed her way, make sure the kids are home, etc. She did. The system created the tornado that hit our home. The kids were inside, she was inside. All clear…all good. Lucky?

Sunday’s tornado, like the car crash, came with little or no warning. My son was just arriving home from a weekend field trip, my wife went to the high school to pick him up. As she turned south out of our driveway to get him, I took a left (north) out of the same driveway to pick up a pizza (Large truth # 4: high school kids LOVE pizza). Each task took roughly the same amount of time.

On my return, pizza and wings on the passenger seat of my truck, I drove through quarter sized hail that felt like shotgun blasts against my vehicle. I was worried sick about my wife and child driving through the same thing. The town emergency sirens were barely audible through the sound of the hail, but they were there. White knuckled, I pressed on. As I turned into my driveway, I was relieved to see the garage door on my wife’s side slowly dropping its last few feet. Thank Goodness, they were home. I pulled into my garage stall, and closed the door behind me.

Less than a minute later, I walked into our kitchen, wife and son still with jackets on, pizza in my hands, the sound of a freight train was right outside our window. We know that sound. At that second, we lost power, I set the pizza down, we called our dog, and we headed to the basement, and before I opened the basement door, it was gone. Pulling into my garage, walking into my kitchen, setting down my cargo, and scurrying 20 steps to our basement door…ALL…took less than 1 minute.

It was surreal, it was still raining hard, but it was eerily quiet after the “locomotive” left us. We were in the dark. Mrs. Large Man and our Large son grabbed some flashlights and we reacquired our bearing inside the house. The smell of hot wings and near death filled the air. Okay, we actually didn’t realize that this was a “near death” experience, because we hadn’t looked outside, I just like that line, “…wings…near death.” (The Large Man is BACK, Baby!!)

I grabbed a high-powered light emitter (flashlight), and stepped outside, and I was shocked at the level of debris in my driveway. Holly was spread all across the concrete, Piney was split in two, so there was that pine essence in the air. At first, the combination gave it something of a Christmas feel. Then I saw the beast tree, Big Daddy, laying across the entirety of the driveway. I worked my way around it, and out into the street, still not really processing it all until I heard my neighbor from across the way, Bob, exclaim, “DUDE, WHAT THE FUCK!”

It was kind of an exclamation, and a question, but very clearly the most appropriate way to address the moment. He kind of snuck up behind me, as I was trying to make some sense of it all. By the time I snapped to, Bob gave me a pat on the shoulder, asked if I was alright, and as I started to explain that, no…I was not alright, emergency vehicles were entering the area, and police and firemen were yelling at us to get inside our house.

NOW…the air smelled like near death, hot wings, and I guess a little like Christmas. A Christmas with really shitty gifts, spent with relatives you never really cared for.

Had we been maybe even seconds later arriving home, this would have been a very different story. I still would have written it because of my love for attention, but I would be a lot sadder about it all. Probably would have shopped the story to some of the celebrity & human-interest magazines. Mrs. Large Man would LOVE to be in People Magazine…even if it was from being squooshed by a giant basswood tree named Big Daddy.

Lucky? Hmmm… My house is now a bit of a freak show, all week long people have been walking by to gawk at The Large Man’s representation of Mother Nature’s power. Some people driving by stop their car in the middle of the street, get out, and snap a picture. It is amazing to think that wind could do the things it did to my yard, my home, and other places in town. We were lucky, because “…a lot of other places got it worse”.

“WOW! You’re lucky that tree fell the way it did.”

“Jeez! You have to feel lucky no one was hurt!”

“DAMN! You’re lucky you were able to get a contractor out here to tarp off that roof. You know, the lumber yard over in Starbrick was completely destroyed!”

Yes. I’m lucky…but more accurately, I’m blessed.

It’s not lucky that your house has had its ass kicked 3 out of the last 4 years (This being said, that house sure can take a punch!!) In fact, 2 tornados and a car crash would be defined by most anybody as bad luck. It’s one of the reasons I don’t really gamble. All my luck seems to be spent on survival.

I’m blessed. I’m blessed that through all this shit, my wife and kids are alive and healthy and vibrant with light and energy. I’m lucky that I get to see these life forces flourish in a world that’s both cruel and beautiful…and can display those contradictions only minutes …only seconds…apart from one another.

The lightning in the sky, and the thunder it produced were spectacular before that cyclone formed just afew seconds later. The devastation to my property doesn’t come close to the measure of kindness, support, and goodwill I received from my friends and neighbors. That’s not luck, that’s a blessing.

I don’t believe in religion, but I believe in God. I don’t really believe in Karma, but I believe in the Universe. Whether it’s stardust, or Divinity, I believe we are all connected. Actually, I believe it’s both.Because of my stardust and Divinity belief, I’m starting to believe that there might be more at play here.

I’m NOT LUCKY! BAD SHIT HAPPENS TO ME ALL THE TIME!

But maybe that contradiction of bad luck & good luck is a reminder…a nudge, perhaps, from Something, or Someone bigger than me. Maybe They are trying to get me to understand that I’m here for a reason, and it’s time for me to figure it out.

Maybe I’m Batman.

If it turns out that I’m Batman, that will be so cool!!!!!

Thanks for reading…I’m back 😊

Read Full Post »

I haven’t done this in about a year or so, so please, bear with me…sentence structure, grammar, and tone and timbre all may suffer from some “artistic atrophy” as I start working these literary muscles after a LONG break. I’ve started a few times, but just never found the spirit or the heart the collection of words needed.  As I type out these first few lines, it occurs to me, just now, how important it is to do this Large Man thing. For me, it’s soul food.

I’m on a plane bound for Pittsburgh. Hosier is explaining to me through headphones about how he “…fall(s) in love just a little o’ little bit every day with someone new.” And then he asks “…would things be easier if there was a right way?” But then he goes on to explain, “but Honey, there is no right way.” I think he’s right, when it comes to love, there is no right way. That’s why he’s one of my current favorite philosophers, that Hosier dude.

While Hosier is teaching me about love and life, I’m in a middle seat on a 4-hour flight, with a small, polite, man sitting on my right by the aisle, and my 17-year-old son on my left by the window. My son and I are on our way back home. We had to pay extra for Exit Row seating because my son is 6ft 8in. tall, and the airlines love to squeeeeeeeze every dollar out of you they can.

But that’s all OK, I love the fact that I have a Large son, I love that we are able to take this trip, I love that these things are possible because of the work I do. So, for now, I’m settled. I have some crazy days ahead, but right now, this moment, I’m exactly where I want to be. I love being a dad. I wish I had my hat that says “Blessed” on it. (I have one…it was a Christmas present. One of my favorites!!)

My son’s Christmas present was a father & son trip to the Grand Canyon. For those of you not familiar, that’s the big one that’s mostly in Arizona. The Grand Canyon has been on his, “…bucket list for several years”, or so he says. I’m not sure a 17-year-old should have a bucket list yet, but I think he’s a millennial, right? Doesn’t that mean he can have anything he wants, as soon as he wants it? Whether he’s entitled to a “bucket list” or not, I indulged him…he’s a good boy.

We did it up, BIG, I mean LARGE…

We did the helicopter tour in the canyon – AMAZING! We did the Pink Jeep Adventure in Sedona – EXCITING! On a Monday we drove about 600 miles in our rental car, just looking at the landscape in northern Arizona, and southern Utah – SPECTACULAR!

We saw the “Four Corners” monument where Arizona, Colorado, Utah & New Mexico all meet (Say Cheese!!). We went to the place where Forrest Gump decided to stop running (yeah, it’s a real place in Utah). And we walked and we talked,  and we just looked…all around us. We listened to a mystery novel on CD, we talked some more, and we made a memory that will be treasured by both of us for the rest of our lives.

I have this friend, who’s pretty much a big dope, but I remember him telling me that your kids will rarely remember the things you “got” for them, but they’ll always remember the things you “did” with them. Pretty smart ponderance for a big dope, but it made sense to me, so I’ve tried to live by that philosophy.

I have struggled with balancing family and career for the last 19 years; it’s especially challenging when you travel like I do. But if crossing something off of my son’s “bucket list” is the reward, the struggle is worth it. Seeing him experience the magic you feel when your soul connects to something Larger than yourself, something spiritual, is worth every missed flight, every shitty hotel… every lukewarm Diet Coke that washed down a cold and stale sandwich in a dirty airport.

I loved every minute of this trip. Actually, it wasn’t trip…it was an adventure.

There is a song by the band, Lord Huron, called ‘Ends of the Earth’, listen to these words: (I guess, read these words)

Oh, there’s a river that winds on forever
I’m gonna see where it leads
Oh, there’s a mountain that no man has mounted
I’m gonna stand on the peak

Out there’s a land that time don’t command
Wanna be the first to arrive
No time for ponderin’ why I’m-a wanderin’
Not while we’re both still alive

To the Ends of the Earth would you follow me
There’s a world that was meant for our eyes to see…

It goes on like that.

The way it’s written is that this guy is singing to a girl about how he wants to see this wonderful world, and also, he loves her because she’s beautiful and she has this amazing body. But as much as he loves her, this world is waiting to be experienced, and she’s welcome to come because of her amazing body and all, if she wants to; but he’s going… with or without her, and her amazing body.

Take the way this man objectifies his love interest out of the equation, and the song is quite inspiring for those of us who have a wanderlust. (And I may have been interpreting the “amazing body” stuff anyway). The way it’s written and performed, you feel his need to see, and touch, and become a part of, all that our rivers and mountains, canyons, caves, and skies have to offer. I love that he’s willing to forsake his true love rather than miss it all.

Now, that being said, I think he’s making a mistake. I love mountains, rivers and canyons and shit, but true love is probably still my first choice. That’s me. If the dude who wrote the song loved the girl I love, he’d be happy to stay at home and just watch all that stuff on Nat Geo.

So, what I hope for…

I am ecstatic about the fact that my 17-year-old son has experienced a spiritual connection to our earth, and nature. I hope he can find someone who will love these things as well. But if he doesn’t find someone with that same wanderlust, curiosity, and connection to Mother Earth, I hope he finds someone who will allow and nurture his desire to see and experience, ‘The Ends of the Earth’. Above all, I hope this adventure is the beginning…the seed that sprouts into a lifetime vine of adventures for him…and his kids.

There is so much to see. I never get tired of it, and I don’t think my Large son will either.

I started this Large Man thing because I wanted to share what I saw while on this “journey”. “It’s what you see along the way…” is the tag line for these ‘Chronicles’. It’s even printed on our business cards and tee shirts!

It’s a great journey. This life we live, and this world we live in have new adventures around every corner. Even after 20 straight years of traveling just about every week, I still want to go “to the ends of the Earth”. Nowadays I prefer that there’s room service and a decent craft beer selection, but still…

Thank you for reading…I think I’m back.

TLM

Read Full Post »

Can you identify the proudest moment of your life? Do you have a moment that currently outranks all other moments of your existence… for you?

Let’s disqualify the day our babies came into the world, or the day we married “the love of our life”. Those moments, as amazing as they are, kinda depend on someone else to make them special. I’m asking for your proudest, most special, amazing, awesome moment.

I asked my office mate this question, and she didn’t hesitate with her reply. “The day I got my degree. No question. I was working full time, raising three kids, and I did it.”

I think it’s great that she came up with it that fast. I have a more difficult time coming up with mine. I’m not sure if it’s because I’ve led a life that has been blessed with so many milestones and magical moments that a “greatest” or “proudest” moment can’t be singled out, or, when it comes to things that only involve me, maybe it’s been a lifetime of “nothing special”. Hard to say…

But I know a guy…

…let me set the stage.

Flashback to Sunday, April 24^th, 2016…San Diego, California, Marriott Marina & Convention Center…National Tank Truck Carriers Spring Convention & President’s Meeting

The National Tank Truck Carriers (NTTC) is a non-profit advocacy association that works to support the business interests of trucking companies who deliver goods via tank trailers. Most of the gasoline delivered to your local gas station is carried by a trucking company that is a member of this association. Most of the liquid and powder chemicals delivered to the manufacturing plants in our country are delivered by NTTC members. The chlorine that sanitizes your pool, and the propane that cooks your steaks to that perfect warm red center, are all delivered at some point by a tank trailer.

The NTTC has two major conventions a year, one in the spring, one in the fall. The company I work for makes parts and pieces that keep the chlorine, gasoline, propane, ethanol, and glycol, inside of those tanks, even if those tanks roll over or catch fire…it’s kind of an important thing. So, I get to go to these conventions and meet with the people who own companies that have tank trailers that use the parts and pieces my company makes. It’s a good gig. San Diego any time of year is beautiful, for a guy who lives in northwest Pennsylvania, San Diego in April is medicine.

So, it’s Sunday evening in San Diego, on the convention hall floor, and there is a “Welcome” reception, with music, hors d’oeuvres, and an open bar. Because I am the trade show coordinator for my company, and I’m a genius, the open bar is right next to my company’s booth. Patrons of the show see me and all of my company’s wares, as they wait in line for their gins and tonics, Buds and Lites, and Jacks and Cokes, and they sarcastically chide me, “Hey Large Man, did you plan this? Pretty convenient for you, Ha ha haaaa!”

Hell yes! I absolutely planned this. I get thirsty, and I crave attention. My booth needs to be where the action is. To quote ‘Hamilton, The Musical’, “…in the room where it happens!”

As my coworkers and I are meeting and greeting other patrons of the show (and the bar), I notice this one guy kinda checking things out, and he has a familiar look. A good beginning descriptor would be that he is “thick”. He has a thick barrel chest, solid, thick upper arms, wide and thick shoulders connected to a thick neck, that terminates at a beautifully shaved & shiny head. This man is a Large man.

I watched him looking at the valves and lighting products on one of my tables, and some of the trinkets on tabletops at the booth next door to mine. As he studies these products, holding them in his big thick mitts, his dark eyes stared intently…he neither smiled nor frowned, he didn’t seem to approve or disapprove of anything he examined. He just seemed to be processing…taking it all in.

I approached this Large man and asked, “Can I answer any questions for you?” (‘Cause that’s my job).

He looked up from the 6496ALB Normal Vent (it’s a thing, really), and says, “No not really. I’m a driver, and I use a lot of this stuff, but I rarely get to see it when it’s not on the tank trailer. Kinda cool. I do have one question though, where did you get that beer?”

I get excited when people ask me questions and I immediately know the answer, so I smile real big and say, “Follow me.”

The thick, Large, man returned my smile, and did as I requested. I felt this was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. We shook hands and introduced ourselves by name and company as we stood in line at the bar, and when my new friend spoke to me, he did so from a big wide toothy grin, surrounded by a meticulously trimmed goatee. He had these lively, dark eyes, that seemed to dance in rhythm with every word he spoke. We’ve all met people who have a presence, people who immediately seem “Larger than life”; my new friend, Darryl Ray Nowell, is the quintessential example of that essence.

Darryl is a truck driver for Eagle Transport, based in Rocky Mount, North Carolina. He works out of their Richmond, VA terminal, and has been employed there for 16 years. Darryl was attending the show as a nominee, and one of eight finalists, for NTTC’s annual award for “Truck Driver of the Year”.

The bar line moved quickly, Darryl and I grabbed a brew, and went back to my booth to chat about business and life…this is TRULY the best part of my job…it’s the best part of my life. To be able to continually connect with people from all over the world, and from all walks of life, keeps me in a constant state of fascination.

The “Driver of the Year” award is in its early stages, there have been only two prior recipients, and this year’s group of 8 nominees had 4 drivers who were finalists in the previous two years. Darryl was a first-time nominee, and appeared to be the youngest of this year’s group…in my opinion, he was clearly the most colorful.

Let me share with you a few of the things Darryl shared with me while we had a chat:

Darryl Ray Nowell is 52 years old. He served our country honorably in the US Army for 11-1/2 years. He has done volunteer search and rescue work. He has been a professional wrestler for over thirty years…his wrestling character’s name is “Pyro”. Pyro does public safety commercials, public appearances, fund raisers in the greater Richmond area, for free, to promote fire safety for kids. He’s also starting his own chili company…so he’s a chef. In the 16 years he’s been driving a tractor & trailer for Eagle Transportation, he has logged almost 3 million (2.9 million) accident free miles. And as cool as all these things are, I truly felt Darryl’s humanity, when he talked to me about his son. Darryl is a single father of an all-star bowler and honor roll student. When this proud father told me things about his kid, the dark, lively, dancing eyes, glassed up a little bit.

This Large, thick… bad ass, Army veteran, searcher & rescuer, professional wrestling truck driver…was as sweet and gentle as a puppy when we started talking about our kids. And he listened intently as I shared stuff about my kids as well. When it’s all said, and done, Darryl…Pyro, is just a dad.

I love that stuff.

And yet, as much as I enjoyed my time with this amazing character, I didn’t like his chances for Driver of the Year. He was a first-time finalist, and he didn’t have the time or miles that most of the other nominees had.

The award ceremony takes place during a Monday morning breakfast reception that my amazing company has been sponsoring for about 20 years. We have an opening blessing, some yellow re-hydrated protein product that’s supposed to resemble scrambled eggs, flimsy bacon, under-ripened fruit plates, a celebrity keynote speaker, and now we close the event by announcing this year’s driver of the year.

Eight finalists from eight different companies are introduced to the crowd, and as they walk up to the stage, a short “bio” video tells their story on a giant screen in the background. It’s all very Large and loud, with music and pictures of their families, and events they’ve participated in. There’s a few seconds of interview and action shots of these guys, who in many ways, are the backbone of American industry. It’s a celebrity moment for men and women who should be celebrated every day…but like most of us in the working world, they are not. They’re just a group of people who go to work in the morning, and do the very best they can to see that they get home…AND WE GET HOME, safely, at the end of our working day. Driving and delivering hazardous material, safely and efficiently, is no easy task. Darryl and the fellow nominees who shared the stage with him, had logged close to 40 million accident and incident free miles on our highways & byways. That is “job excellence”.

So at the end of the introductions, and the tribute videos, the eight finalists stand on stage and listen as the master of ceremonies announces the winner. It’s not done by opening an envelope and announcing a name, it’s done by the emcee giving us deeper details about the individual. The first sentence or two could describe any one of the finalists, then the next sentence might narrow it down by one or two.

These eight men face the crowd.

As the announcer continues down the list, you see some guys shift their body weight, some guys shrug their shoulders, and you see some guys stand up a little straighter…

…as it got down to the last sentence or two, I saw my guy flash that big toothy grin, and I saw him shift his weight from side to side, and I saw those dark dancing eyes glass up again. Then he put those big thick hands up to his eyes, made a nod to Heaven, and wiped away tears of pride and joy as the announcer said, “This year’s National Tank Truck Carriers, Driver of the Year Award, goes to Darryl Ray Nowell of Eagle Transportation. Congratulations Darryl!”

I was pretty sure Darryl had won the award when they described the community service aspect of the resume, and they said “…a professional wrestler who works tirelessly in the community to promote fire safety”. I don’t think there were any other pro wrestlers on stage, probably not even in the building.

After a round of congratulatory handshakes from his fellow nominees, Darryl stepped to the mic and humbly thanked the men he shared the stage with, and congratulated them on getting there. He thanked the association, and all the people standing and applauding.

As we settled back into our chairs, we could feel Darryl’s emotion. I don’t have enough colors on my literary palette to paint this picture. It was probably the most emotional scene I have ever experienced in the work place.

Darryl explained to us through all this emotion that “…other than the day my son was born; this is the greatest moment of my life. I only wish he was here to see this.” That’s the one that got me. I looked around the room at that point, and there was no doubt…it got a lot of us. There were a lot of tears being wiped away throughout the crowd.

On Monday, April 25^th, 2016, I got to see a man experience one of the “greatest moments” of his life. I got to share the experience with a couple hundred people who appreciate the hard work it took to achieve that moment…Darryl worked for this “greatest moment”, he didn’t get lucky, it was earned. Maybe the best part of the audience’s experience was that we could all see that it was appreciated and valued by the man being honored.

I think it was one of our greatest moments too.

Thanks, Darryl…”Pyro”, for letting me tell your story.

There’s a comment section at the end of this post, or on the Facebook post where you opened it up… if you feel like it, I would love to know your proudest, or greatest “moment” (so far). Thanks for reading.

TLM

Read Full Post »