Moments and the Strands of Time
There are days, no, not days, there are moments experienced in this life that when looked back upon, we realize are life-defining. Even to the most observant among us, these moments are not noticed immediately. A moment is a measurement of time and notice or not, something happens in every moment of our lives. We take a breath. We have a taste, we touch the skin of a loved one, or glance into the eyes of the person with whom eventually, we’ll find to be the one. Decisions are made in a moment, good or bad; decisions that etch an indelible mark into our soul, and life changes course. A certain event, a transaction, or words heard, can inspire or incite a new direction, and it all comes down to a specific moment.
The person who you know or are getting to know if you are new to this site, as DBeazy, was once nicknamed BIG DON. The product of a high school boy who thought a lot of me and used stickers to emblazon “BIG DON” on the rear window of my vehicle without my knowledge. The name caught on for a while among the high school friends of my oldest daughter, and then to some co-workers after my boss noticed it. The nickname’s origin though was derived from the kids hearing me say often, “If you are going to do something, do it BIG.”
Now, I’m the first to admit that I don’t necessarily live up to the statement. I have done things BIG in my life, but not in the sense that I meant when instructing the youth with whom I at one time had influence. Sure, I have BIG accomplishments of my own, but for the most part, I’ve enjoyed witnessing people who took my suggestions and built on them, and built on them and became something amazing. When I look upon the body of work that is the life of DBeazy, it is the success of others that brings me the most pride. I cite, for example, my two daughters and two “daughters” who are not biologically mine, but I consider daughters just the same. Failures, yes, plenty, but I read somewhere that Colonel Sanders filed bankruptcy several times before he got it right. As I share a few fragments of time experienced with my girls, I pray that my impact fell more heavily on the positive in their lives; that they, as I always told them, “Do as I SAY, not as I do.”
My eldest, Brandi, was born in the very building in which I have worked for 31 years. Brandi entered this world on the high end of the birth weight scale, and when they handed her to me and I felt the little rolls in my hands, well, that is one of those defining moments. At that moment, I became a father. At that moment, a bond stronger than steel was forged, and at that moment, there was something to live for, and if necessary, something to die for. I have a vivid memory of me holding her and rocking her for hours one evening when she had an ear infection. She was only able to rest comfortably with me holding her and rocking her in an old bentwood rocker, so rock we did. The old bentwood worked its way back across the carpeted floor until making contact with the wall and I’d ease myself up and drag the chair forward and start again. All of the stresses and pressure of the world were on the shoulders of a 22-year-old dad because she depended on me to make her feel better at that moment. All I knew was I would bear any pain if I could take it from her.
Then ten and a half years later my second child, Shelby was conceived with my second wife, Melissa. At some point in the pregnancy, I had been in Waco on business and called Melissa as soon as I made it back to New Orleans. I could tell something was up by the modulation in her voice. For the entire two hour ride from the Big Easy, there was nothing easy about it. I knew something was wrong, possibly terribly wrong. I searched my mind for an inkling of what I could have done wrong. I don’t know why I instinctively decided that it was me that had done something wrong, I guess guilty conscience, but I knew for a fact that this time, at least, I was innocent. Finally, I arrived home late on a Wednesday night knowing that I would need to be at work on Thursday morning early. But the fact that my mother was at my house only added to my uncertainty. I stepped inside my house and almost immediately, Melissa informed me that some lab results indicated that there might be some issues with our unborn child. I was overcome with a flood of emotions, or more likely, a hailstorm of emotions. I searched for the words to provide some sort of wisdom, some sort of resolution, words that, as the MAN-of-the-House, should be uttered in such a time. I had nothing. I merely said, let me go change clothes and wash my face. I made it to the bedroom, dropped my bags, and hit my knees. I prayed and prayed and asked for the LORD to give me strength. I thought of Hannah in the Bible and how she prayed for a son and how she gave her child to God. I gave Shelby to God that night on my knees at the foot of my bed, and in a moment, a peace came upon me and it was as if God whispered that she would be ok. I made it back up the hallway to face my mother and my wife. I merely told them that everything was alright. That I had spoken to God and God had spoken to me. The night of her birth was a similar moment to that of the night of Brandi’s, out perfectly healthy Shelby cried without ceasing for over 2 hours. Two moments that shaped me. A request made, an answer given, and then later, the proof that came in the form of this beautiful screaming child. Though there was never a doubt.
Again, late one night, I had a long conversation with Lauren, the younger of my two “non-biological” daughters. I sat with bourbon in hand and listened, and allowed her to talk without input from me. La, as I call her, had worked hard her entire life toward the goal of being a cheerleader. She made it through the Jr High, the High School squads, and reached the big time as a Cheerleader for Division One, NCAA University of Wyoming Cowboys. But La learned the hard way that life isn’t always fair, that life can deal a hand that you just have to fold. In her second year, a knee injury sidelined her, then surgery, and as things go, the Cowboys looked past her and she realized that it was over. From there, La wallowed around a bit, trying on this dress or that, finding none that was the right fit, including learning the lesson of a toxic relationship. But on the night in question, she had emerged as a stronger young woman and I listened as she detailed plans that she had for a more permanent future. The moment was so special to me because as she lined out the next two years of her life for me, all I could do was listen in amazement because I knew at that moment that La would be just fine. After all, that is what a father wants for his children, right?
La’s older sister is a woman of accomplishment of her own. McRee, we call her McRee, to avoid confusion of the two Shelbys, has always been a bit of an “intellectual” type, though, she cannot fool DBeazy because I know some of the “airheaded” things she said and did along her journey. You see, watching McRee grow, I learned early that when she made up her mind she would become doggedly driven to meet her self-imposed goals. She demanded a lot of herself and she was unrelenting in her drive. Yes, I wish that Old DBeazy could have had more influence, and in some ways, maybe I did, but her path took her to some places that were totally foreign to me to the point that our relationship became stressed. Then in January, McRee had flown in to visit her Grandfather who was in the hospital and in a bad way. We met for a meal and conversation, and though I admit, I was a little apprehensive due to prior “political” differences of opinion, but as it happened, there was a moment when I looked at her and I saw not the girl who tried to “pant” me and got more than she bargained for, but a young woman, mature and acknowledging that people can have a difference of opinion, yet still realize respect and love between the two. At this moment, McRee taught as she learned and recently, graduated with I think 6 or 7 degrees and is ready to take on the world.
So, the act of writing or in your case, the act of reading, can and should, if it is good, allow for some connection to life experienced because if attention is paid, we all have these “moments.” We awake, we go and do and give and take, but life happens in moments, to each of us.
What about the feature picture? Well, I’m glad you asked. In February of 2017, our home burned. Not to the ground, thankfully, but damn near it. Oddly, though the fire happened on a Wednesday, the “moment” occurred on the Sunday prior. I had been attending church for 5 weeks in a row, and on this particular early February Sunday, we gathered at The Church on Main, in Columbia, Mississippi. We made it through the music, the message, and had made it to the altar call. I lowered my head and began to pray, but the only words that came to mind were “Heal my land.” Over and over, I repeated, “heal my land.” Later in the day, I contemplated the unwarranted solicitation, “Heal My Land” and I wondered the purpose thereof. Was it my country? Was it the fact that we had a new president? Was it something closer to home?
The answer came 3 days later when Melissa called to tell me that the house was on fire. I was at work about 45 minutes away. I started for Darbun, my heart racing, and my mind reeling. Not knowing what I’d find when I got there, I began to pray. Then I remembered that moment 4 days prior, and I thanked God for his blessings and to help me find the healing in this tragedy.
Days after the smoke settled and the process of recovery and rebuilding had started, I stepped into the back yard and found this charred page from a book. There were many books destroyed that day and I found it odd that this one page was sitting there in the yard.
I started this writing with talk of a moment. A singular instance in time. But when I examine life as a whole, I can’t help but consider the moments that when linked together and one-moment building upon another, well, that is where one will find success. As time passes and years advance, I find that the moments become difficult to recall and sometimes come in fragments with big pieces missing. But I’m reminded of some when I see the successes of my girls, and I hope that at least part of their success is attributed to Big Don, DBeazy.