Marshall Ramsey

A few years ago, my friend Mike called to tell me he was working on a syndicated television series. Each episode would spotlight a different Mississippi artist by telling their story. Mike said he wanted to do an episode featuring me. I was honored (and wondered if every other talented person in Mississippi had said no) and said, “sure, let me know how I can help.” 

One way I could help was that my parents were going to be in town. So I hauled them down to his studio and Mike plopped them in front of a green screen and interviewed them. 

The series never found the financial banking it needed (which is too bad — it was a great idea). I forgot about it. 

Tomorrow, I’m going to go pick up the interviews from Mike. I will have 30 minutes of footage of my parents talking about me. This is before they got sick. This was during better times. I will have their voices and faces recorded. I can tell you that watching it will break loose a logjam of grief and pain. 

I can’t think of a more powerful gift.

When dad passed, my sisters and I were with him. The only reason I mention this horribly private moment is that it planted a seed in me that has begun to bloom — Our jobs won’t be holding out hands when we die. Nor will social media or the outrage of the day. Our legacy isn’t the stuff that we accumulate. To quote Bill Courtney (Undeafeated), “Our legacy isn’t what can be sold at an estate sale for pennies on the dollar.” Our legacy is how we treat people. It’s how we, by being present, change their lives for the better.

This isn’t me preaching, meddlin’ or saying you have a speck in your eye. This is me trying to pull the plank out of my own eye. I looked at my screen time on my phone this weekend and was shocked. I wasted a good bit of yesterday trying to explain things to people who didn’t want to hear what I had to saw. Time is our most precious resource. My use of time has been as efficient as burning $100 bills to stay warm.

Lent is coming up. It’s a part of my faith and a great time for me to reflect on what to take away and what to add into my life. It helps me line up my actions with my spirit. It allows me to focus on my mortality. As they say on Ash Wednesday, “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.”
I’ll still post on Facebook, tweet and put pictures on Instagram. But I am going to do it more wisely. As always, I appreciate you reading what I write and your comments — even if we disagree. But I’m not falling down the rabbit hole and I’m putting down my phone more often.

I miss dad every much. I wish I could have back the time I was distracted when he was alive. My mission, one that I choose to accept, is to be more present.
And the present is the best time to begin.