Others Before Self…

This week I’m writing about selflessness, something I haven’t always been good at and am looking to improve on. Growing up as an only child, I never lacked for anything. Toys, clothes, sporting equipment, summer camps, cars, homework help, and full-time support were always there. I took it for granted then, and that followed me throughout my years as a young adult. Relationships, both friends and romantic, work, and even recreation suffered because I always put myself first. It’s not that I didn’t care about others, I just cared about me more.

When I moved to Chicago, I was told by friends from my small hometown, “Don’t be caught downtown at night,”… “Don’t drink the water,”… “Whatever you do, pick a suburb to live in.” Well, I did live downtown for over 20 years and the water is some of the best in the country (thank you, Lake Michigan). I love Chicago and the people that I was blessed to be around. But it wasn’t all fun and games. I was mugged, had two cops draw their weapons on me, and found bullet holes in my Jeep. When you think you’re bulletproof and the world revolves around you, none of that is a big deal. One part of Chicago I always hated were the homeless and those begging on the streets.

For many years I would ignore, or even be hostile to, those who would approach me for money, with one sob story after another. So many people would say, “Don’t give them money, they’ll only use it to buy booze or drugs.” When I started in the bar business, I believed they were actually a determent to my clientele, stationing themselves close to my entrances and pulling on my customers’ heartstrings, or worse. These actions were often met with aggressive behavior by me to remove them from the vicinity. As I write this now, I’m embarrassed by these actions and only wish I could go back and apologize.

As I’m sure you know, Chicago is a huge sports town. I moved here in the heart of the Bulls’ six championships. My love of Chicago sports started even before that because KP was a huge Walter Payton fan, wearing number 34 in his honor. Since we were attached at the hip, I followed the Bears as well. As a Bears fan, I always wanted to learn more about their history. One book I found was I Am Third written by Gale Sayers. The book is about his relationship with his teammate, Brian Piccolo. The theme is the idea that maybe the whole world doesn’t revolve around “me.” The title expresses Gale’s belief that in life, “God is first, family is second, and I am third.” I can’t give the book and the subsequent movie all the credit for a new way of thinking, but they sure shed a new light on how I was acting. (I will admit that I saw the movie before I read the book.)

One of my general managers (and good friend) married a customer who was a first grade teacher on the south side of Chicago. We used to accompany her class on field trips every year, and one of my favorites was the Shedd Aquarium. Her school had an all African American student base and we were some of the few white faces they would ever see outside of a television screen. This particular trip happened to be the first of the school year, so the kids met this large, bald, white guy for the first time. As was the typical first meeting, the kids were quite a bit shy to start. But put me in the Shedd Aquarium and I transformed into the world’s largest first grader! The kids were super excited to get to our first stop, the penguin exhibit, because they had been studying them in class. Just like the pied piper, I led the way. As we approached, we were greeted by a sign: Penguin Exhibit Closed for Cleaning. The kids were heartbroken but I was not deterred.

The Wild Reef is an exhibit that has an additional charge and was not on our agenda for the day. I thought… what better way to lift the kids’ spirits than to do and see something they hadn’t planned on? So, off we went! To get to the Wild Reef you had to take an elevator to the lower level. After acquiring tickets for all of us, our adventure began. Loading 30+ first graders on several elevators was the first challenge and only the start of the fun. The exhibit featured enormous tanks with sharks and other very large fish swimming around us, above us, and even below us. The excitement and wonder in those kids’ faces exceeded my expectations and made it worth every penny and more.

Now that the penguins had become only a memory, it was time to lead the pack into, and through, the rest of the aquarium. I spent the next several hours showing them what a complete geek I really was. Going from tank to tank, finding the smallest creatures, and showing them my excitement. All in all it was a GREAT day but I wasn’t done yet. I excused myself from the class and headed to the gift shop. There I bought a large (over 24″), stuffed emperor penguin for each of the kids. I snuck them onto the bus without them knowing and asked the teachers not to reveal what I’d done until they returned to school. We said our farewells and as far as the kids knew, the adventure was over.

That field trip was on a Thursday. Friday their writing assignment was for them to write me a thank you note. Each and every one was so well thought out and special, but one stood out above the rest. I could never describe what I felt as Amy and I read it. I can only say it was life-changing. Here it is:

I’m sorry today’s post is getting long. I could go on for many pages about life-changing circumstances that have presented themselves to me over the years. Please bear with me as I share one more story that ties it all together. The story of Art and Martin.

Art was one of the homeless men who was a constant figure outside of Durkin’s. For years, you could count on him to be in the vicinity of the front door when you entered or left, hitting you with the same old sales pitch, “Help a drunk get drunker.” While I admired his honesty, I didn’t want him “bothering” my customers. Admittedly I was not very nice to Art, often encouraging him to find a new location with an emphasis on NOW! He was relentless in returning day after day. As the years rolled by, I finally realized this was a battle I was never going to win. One thing that always stood out during those times was that no matter how poorly I treated Art, he always had my back. Anytime there was trouble at Durkin’s (which was far more often than I liked), Art was always behind me saying, “I got you Coach.” Now Art wasn’t big in stature, and he was always drunk, but I knew he would always be there for moral support.

As time passed, I learned that Art was a diabetic and had landed in the hospital on multiple occasions when he didn’t take his insulin. He was truly homeless and had no place to store it. My heart softened a bit and we began to keep it in one of our refrigerators for him. At some point, he started showing up with a new partner in crime, Martin. Martin was an off-the-boat Irishman with a strong accent. He was much more demure than Art, but soon the two were inseparable daily fixtures outside the bar.

Winters can be unsufferable in Chicago but these two were always there, day after day. Eventually I began letting them in to warm up before we would open and again after we closed. I was getting to know this pair and began to realize they were real people. One late spring night after we closed, I headed to the alley with a bottle of Jack to have a conversation with them. The three of us shared swigs and stories through the night and into the morning. Amy eventually called, wondering what had happened to me. When I got home I relayed to her what I had learned… that they had parents, childhoods, and in Martin’s case, had started a family. I learned that they lived on the street by choice, choosing complete freedom over the rules of civilization. I learned that they cared for each other, the other homeless, and even me. I learned what a small person I really was for judging these two and so many others, just because of the choices they’ve made, thinking I was better than them in some way.

My perspective on others changed that night and has continued to evolve because of them. The story of Art and Martin ends after our relationship continued to grow. Art passed away and I was asked to give his eulogy. (I declined and will forever regret that decision.) Amy and I bought the ranch and I spent less and less time at Durkin’s. I didn’t see Martin again for a couple of years. One day, driving down the streets of Chicago, I spotted Martin on a bicycle. We stopped and chatted for a while. Martin hadn’t had a drink since Art’s death. He got a job and was even speaking with his family again. I walked away thinking, as one door closes, another door opens. Which door was I going to walk through?

Today, I always give to the homeless on the streets. I understand that I may be fueling their addiction, but I believe God gives us free will for a reason. No matter what their motivation is, I’ve been more blessed than they have. And I can only pray that the very little I contribute goes to make their lives better. I’m not taking a political stance here. This is just what works for me.

About now, you’ve given up on me being able to tie this into my journey with Lou Gehrig’s disease. Well, take heart. I think I can pull this off…

After the diagnosis, it became very apparent to me that Amy and I were spending most of our energies worrying more about each other and not much about ourselves. The other night we were having a tough conversation about what lies ahead, what treatments I wanted and which ones I would refuse (this all happened in the hot tub). As I listened and looked at Amy, I saw someone who loved me unconditionally. Who put me and my needs before her own. Someone I could count on, “…for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part.” I only hope that I can love like that when grow up.

At some point, unless we die in tragic accidents, we’re going to need others we can count on, who put our needs before their own. I only pray that each and every one of you has an Amy. That all of you can be as blessed as I am. To wrap things up, I’d like to share a part of a prayer I say often:

God, please help us to notice and embrace the people you have placed around us. To apologize when warranted and forgive without being asked. Let our lives be a channel of Your love.

As always, thanks for hanging in there with me and reading this blog.

God bless.

Coach