Willie … the reflection

Respect is one of the most basic needs of reasoning creatures … an insult is just that because it is an assault upon respect, upon esteem, and upon that most dangerous of qualities: pride.

Drizzt Do’Urden (IceWind Dale Trilogy, The Halfing’s Gem)

I’ve spent some time thinking about Willie’s sojourn in Eugene. Although brief in terms of the amount of time that actually passed, the hours spent dealing with his predicament (or was it really my predicament?) seemed a lot longer. The seeming imperative to get him back on his way was etched with an intensity that packed more punch than anything I normally associate with my “routine.” What did I learn, if anything?

• Being a Good Samaritan is Hard: right from the start, I had an inkling that helping Willie and his sister was going to be disruptive. It’s one thing to imagine yourself taking on the role of “knight in shining armor,” but it’s quite another to ride into battle only to find out that you are actually ill-equipped. The experience was humbling because it wasn’t possible to solve the real problems stemming from Willie’s mental illness in any kind of way that will make a measurable difference in his life. I had to settle for the more attainable goal of simply trying to make a human connection that was reciprocated in ways that were difficult to interpret and ultimately ephemeral.
• The Resiliency of the Human Spirit is Amazing: the physical deprivation that Willie endured is beyond anything I have ever had to deal with. Eugene/Springfield experienced a once in a 100-year snowstorm that closed schools, the university and slammed the lid shut on business as usual. Alone in a strange place, Willie managed to persevere never knowing that help would find him. On the contrary, he maintained a belief that his wallet would be found, that options for shelter would manifest and that a piano recital where he could hawk his books could be arranged … ridiculous notions really, but I couldn’t help but admire his tenacity.
• Savor the Good Things when They Come Across your Path: one incident struck me in particular. When Willie and I stopped at McDonalds for lunch on Saturday, he asked for a milkshake … a good idea I thought at the time and ordered one myself. After sitting down, Willie went silent, closed his eyes and started sucking on the straw. He nursed the shake and settled into what I discerned as blissful reverie. Willie didn’t speak. He just lost himself in the enjoyment of a fast food treat. It was a small, ostensibly irrelevant matter, but, in the moment, Willie was fully present and alive in a way I found enviable.
• Our Greatest Need is to be the Captain of Our Ship: for most of our lives, we take our health, strength and ability to control our destiny for granted. Our ability to live as we deem and make decisions for ourselves is a given, and it’s hard to anticipate and easy to ignore the fact that we all come to a point where we need to depend on others and even harder to acknowledge that our free agency might be proscribed by these same well-intentioned people. We all know the stories about the grief people experience when they have to give up driving, move out of their homes to assisted living, curtail lifelong activities like hiking, gardening, traveling, etc. We see this, even understand it, but we dread it. For as long as possible, we want to be independent and call our own shots. Coming to that point where this is no longer possible–and we will all get there–and making peace with it is one of the greatest challenges life presents. My weekend with Willie brought this home to me in a powerful way. What does the end game hold in store for me? How will I react and behave? Will the Captain be willing to stand down or will he need to be forcibly removed from his post?

I don’t think Willie will go quietly into the night. I’m not sure his mental state will afford him the chance to objectively weigh and consider his options. But then again, he may pass peacefully some day with a strawberry milkshake in his hand. That would be a nice way to go. I can only hope.