Beech Tree News Network

Reflection: My best friend is a guy, and yes, I know that’s a bit unorthodox.  People always say that you can’t pick your family.  I believe, in some instances, you can’t pick your friends.  They show up, attach themselves to you, and walk with you until you’ve learned what they can teach you.  I have a lithograph hanging in my living room that says, What we have learned from others becomes our own by reflection.  That is very true of mine and John’s friendship.  

John is not the easiest person in the world to get along with.  He has an abrasive personality that drives a lot of people away, and the list includes many girlfriends.  If you met him, you’d know why he’s forty-two years old and still single.  I am not being critical of him, I have just come to understand that John tells the truth, and the truth doesn’t sit well with a lot of people.  He has made me cry on more than one occasion.  The hurt that he inflicted was unintentional.  He just calls it the way he sees it, and reality isn’t always pretty.

John can also be testy at times, which usually makes me laugh.  He managed a guitar store in Bowling Green for a stint.  Oftentimes, moms would drop off their sons to browse the store while they continued on to the mall.  John threatened to hang a sign outside that read This Ain’t No ________ Day Care!  (Use your imagination to fill in the blank.)

John is a guitar player.  We got our music degrees together over twenty years ago.  He really is the guy who can play anything that you’ve heard about all your life.  He has a masters degree in classical and is currently a music professor at WKU.  He grew up in rock bands, tours with a country band during the summer, and has his own Jazz trio, that does concerts at Western and plays private venues around Bowling Green as well.  He is a guitar player’s guitar player, and when other guitarists watch him on stage, he inspires us to do one of two things: go home and practice or sell our guitars.  Yeah, he really is that good.

John is a constant in my life, because he makes himself available as a friend.  If I’m having a rough time of it, I know I can call him and leave a message, and he will get right back to me.  He doesn’t carry a cell phone, because he doesn’t want to be immediately accessible.  He is very diligent about checking his answering machine, however, and I can always count on a call back, even if he’s out on the road touring.  

John is my cause-and-effect friend.  He has an uncanny way of listening to a problem then seeing right through to the vortex of the matter.  He offers the one thing a foggy mind can always use—perspective.

On January 14, of this year, I was on my way to Bowling Green.  It was a Friday.  My oldest daughter was scheduled to give birth to my first grandchild the following Tuesday.  She would be a single mom, living with Garey and me.  I was worried, I was stressed and I proceeded to have a melt-down right there in the car on Highway 231.

I called John and got him, not his answering machine.  I took this as a sign from God.  He told me to come on over.  I started sobbing before he could get the door opened all the way, and I went into his living room where I continued my plaintive questionings, including, but not limited to why was everything always thrown into my lap and how would I manage to fix it this time?  

John sat on his couch, patiently listening while I paced and cried and wondered aloud at the uncertainty of life.  As I continued, he reached for a pen and notebook on a nearby table.  He scribbled something on a page then ripped out the page and folded it into eighths.  “Here,” he said simply, as he handed the paper to me.  I stopped crying as I opened the folds (which was probably part of the plan) then read the four-word message:
YOU ARE NOT GOD.  I smiled, then chuckled, then laughed uncontrollably.  He reached for his jacket and grabbed his guitar case.  “You can thank me later,” he said, “I’ve got a gig.”

I kept the note.  It lived on my refrigerator for several weeks before it found a permanent home in my special box of notes and cards.  I get it out from time to time, just to remind myself that I am not God, and also to thank God for bringing John into my life.