The old man has died. The frail, old, physically diminished, brilliant, accomplished gentleman with whom I shared hospital quarters for a day and a half has, after 86 years, closed the books on a seemingly rich and full life a few days ago. My daughter noticed his obituary online. I truly hope that the premise and promise of hospice care were fulfilled in his last few days. On several occasions, his wife told people “He likes his comfort”. It was usually offered in reaction to his cries of complaint to the blood draws and injections and finger sticks that nobody escapes in a hospital bed. He deserved “comfort” in his last days.
His wife also said numerous times that “My husband is not a brave man”. While I don’t claim to know him better than she does, I do disagree with that statement to some degree. It takes courage to pursue the type of life this man had lived. People don’t become professional musicians because the post office isn’t hiring or because their brother-in-law can’t get them in at the loading docks. The pursuit of a career in any of the arts is fraught with perils that range from the doubts of those who don’t get it to the sparsity of financially viable opportunities. It takes great courage to pursue artistic work for a living. Such bravery deserves its accolades.
In the past week, I have had talks with both of my adult children regarding that type of bravery. Both of our kids are creative and talented people with the desire to make their respective livelihoods as artists. I want them to use the old man’s example of discipline and deliberateness as a road map for their own pursuits. Such is the essence of bravery.
While I was in the hospital, I thought of the poem “Between Walls” by William Carlos Williams. WCW was a physician and perhaps the most efficient poet I have ever read. To me, the poem evokes the notion that little bits of beauty and inspiration are all around us if we just allow ourselves to see them. One does not become a classical musician, or learn to speak seven languages by just waiting for it to happen or by merely being reactive to the whims of fate. This, I believe, is the lesson to be gleaned from this chance encounter. I hope my kids, as well as myself, can learn it well.
Between Walls
By William Carlos Williams
the back wings
of the
hospital where
nothing
will grow lie
cinders
in which shine
the broken
pieces of a green
bottle
This End Up 