Marshall Ramsey

I went down to the basement to get a drink. On the elevator back up, a man walked on and we both did what normal people do – we looked at the numbers as we rose up the tower of the hospital. I was feeling down as we went up.

My right hand was in considerable pain in my heart was too. My son was in for ear surgery. I felt like it was the worst day in the world. I looked at the man – he was probably a little younger than me and I could tell he was having the worst day in the world too.

There is a silence before sunrise that grabs you. The birds quit singing and even the bugs stop their cacophony. The wind stills and the sky prepares the stage by turning from black to pink to blue. The earth pauses for the sun’s big moment as it cracks the horizon. It peeks from behind the trees and warms the earth. And then, as if on cue, the world starts moving again.

It’s a gift. A blessing. A daily miracle.

I try to get out on Saturdays to see this show. As I’m running along the shores of the Reservoir, it’s the brief moment when I’m reminded of how fortunate I am to be on this side of the grass.

Today is Ash Wednesday, a particularly somber religious holiday and the official start of Lent. Lent is practiced by many Christians and usually involves giving things up — I remember one classmate who gave up gum. “Do you chew gum?” I asked him. “No.” Well, that shouldn’t be too hard.

Me? Well, I am see Ash Wednesday as more than just a reminder that I came from dust and will return to it. It’s a reminder that I need to truly live during the time in between. So I will rub my melanoma scar and live in the moment. I will seize the day and be proactive in my relationships. I’ll give up my rotten tendency to take my life for granted. I will meditate and reset my priorities. I will have a grateful heart.

And I’ll give up gum — strictly in honor of my old classmate.

Most of the times, I have weird dreams. Last night, I had a good ol’ fashioned nightmare. And it’s still bothering me today.

I went to bed early last night. Life has kicked the crap out of me lately, leaving me wiped out physically and mentally. I turned on the alarm, (set for 3:58 a.m.) and rested my head on the pillow. I was asleep before it could get warm.

And then it happened.

I was in house recording a TV show. A popular band was there and I was emceeing the event and talking to one of the members. But then the house morphed into a hospital waiting room. Soon, I found myself in surgery. A female doctor (who I didn’t recognize) was talking to me. “Your cancer has come back.” I felt the pinch of the needle as she numbed the area and began to cut at my flesh. She kept reassuring me that the spot was small — but I knew I was in for the fight of my life. I heard her giving me my test results but before I could find out my fate, I woke up.

3:56 a.m.

Exhausted, I turned off the alarm. My workout would have to wait a day. I needed some more sleep.

But I laid there shaking. On this day before Ash Wednesday, I faced my worst nightmare — thankfully just as a nightmare. But I kept reciting, “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust” over and over in my head. I was reminded of my own mortality. And I kept thinking about all the things that have been hammering me lately. Those things that have left me angry and disappointed. I wrote them mentally on a list in my mind.

And then released them.

I was given a gift 13 years ago when the third doctor found and removed my malignant melanoma. Being depressed, angry or afraid is squandering that gift.

Life is too short. And it took a particularly nasty nightmare to remind me of that.

It stands as tall as a 36-story building and if it had failed at launch, the explosion would have rivaled a small atomic bomb. It was designed using pencil, paper and sweat by men who had designed the very rockets that had rained down on London during World War 2. It lifted off slowly toward the heavens and it’s 1960’s technology never failed (something my 1969 Firebird did occasionally.) It was American’s technological miracle. It was the Saturn V.

The Saturn V was — and still is — the most powerful rocket ever built. It took men to the moon, put Skylab into orbit and lifted our dreams toward the stars. Three exist today — in Huntsville, Alabama (a testing model) and in Florida and Houston, Texas (from cancelled Apollo missions after America became bored with moon missions and Congress didn’t want to pay for them.). It was replaced by the Space Shuttles — which now reside in museums, too. Someday the massive SLS rocket will rival it. Someday.

But for now, the Saturn V is the king of rockets. And to me, it stands for something even bigger than its giant size.

America had vision back then. We dared to conquer the impossible — and did. The Apollo missions provided hope during a hopeless time. As I stood beneath the mighty rocket this weekend, awed by its size and the size of the dream that created it. I remembered what we are capable of when we pull together. It was when a dream could conquer bureaucracy.

I walked the length of the old rocket and looked at my sons. I can only hope their generation has the courage to dream again like the creators of the Saturn V once did.

3…2….1….liftoff.

Last night, I cracked open a copy of my book Fried Chicken & Wine and read one of the stories. It’s the one about the man who gets fired and with the help of a random stranger, restarts his life. It’s called the Mustard Seed and has a line I particularly needed to reread.

“You’re not defined by what happens to you. You’re defined how you react to it.”

My life currently is like many of yours. There are some things that I can’t control. They’re painful and are causing serious frustration and sorrow. Yet I’m not complaining — life isn’t all cute kitties and cotton candy and I know it. But I’m exhausted and grasped for some encouragement.

“You’re not defined by what happens to you. You’re defined how you react to it.”

Everyday you walk past people who have the weight of the world on their shoulders. They’ve lost a loved one. They face an illness. They’ve lost a job. They’ve been a victim of crime. And everyday, those people get out of bed and keep taking a swing at life. They look for the good and cling on to it. Life’s crap tsunami doesn’t faze them. They keep pushing forward.

My oldest sister is one of those people.

I’ve watched her support her husband as he bravely battled ALS. I’ve seen her be strong and continue to live as her world crumbled after his death. She recently had three trees crush her home in the middle of another crisis. I was Facetiming her as she surveyed the damage. She said, “Thankfully the house was strong enough to keep me from getting crushed.” It wasn’t “poor me.” It was “lucky me.” She didn’t whine. She didn’t blame anyone for her bad luck. She pushed through with the other crisis she was in the middle of and didn’t use the trees as an excuse. Her house will be repaired hopefully within a month. Three gables were destroyed. But she’s still here.

My sister hasn’t allow what has happened to her to define her. She is not a victim. She’s a rock star. And my hero.

To find encouragement, I really didn’t have to look far. And I’m very proud to be her little brother.

Today will be a great day. Because I know one simple truth:

“You’re not defined by what happens to you. You’re defined how you react to it.”

At 5:30 this morning, I ran about four and a half miles on the Ole Miss campus. The north wind was cutting me in half and burning my lungs. I ran, thinking about my dinner from the night before and my speech that I’ll give in a few hours. I hopped over a curb and headed down a new path, wondering where would take me. What an amazing metaphor for my life.

I really don’t know where I am going most days. I know that flies in the face of great planning — and don’t get me wrong, I do plan. But the currents are constantly changing. New channels appear nearly daily. It’s hard to plan when your plan alters daily.

What doesn’t change is this flame that burns in my heart. It’s the same flame I had when I was eight years old. I KNEW I’d be doing this. I couldn’t have predicted the changes in the newspaper industry, the rise of the internet or even social media. But I knew I’d be doing what I loved. And I knew I’d be using my talent. In the process, I stumbled and failed. But I kept pushing. Sometimes it was pushing a mop. But I kept moving forward. And the flame never dimmed.

I ran down another path that took me to a different part of campus. It was a short cut that ran through a particularly pretty patch of woods. That’s kind of like my life right now. Every turn takes me down a new, more spectular path.

Last night I got to have dinner with two of the finest storytellers I know. Today, I get to tell my story in front of an audience. As went down the new path, I checked my watch. It said it has been a spectacular run but I still have a long, fun way to go.

Thank God it’s Monday.

I know. Saying that makes me weird. But I’m not giving up 1/7th of my life being grumpy that it’s Monday. I’m also declaring war on fear. Monday is as good of a day to do it as any. Because I’ve seen what fear does. It is toxic. It tears up relationships and hurts those who love you. Fear is the devil walking this earth. It leads to selfishness which will leads to loneliness. Nope. Not allowing fear to rule my life anymore. Get lost, fear. You’re not needed anymore.

Monday is a great day to start with a positive outlook. A good place to start would be to bethankful for the blessings in my life. My wife. My kids. My family. I’m grateful for opening my eyes this morning. I am healthy and happy. I had food to eat and a roof over my head. And I have opportunity. I’ve been given another chance. A chance to use my talents. A chance to lift up the lives of others. And it doesn’t have to be some grand, giant gesture. You can defeat fear with 1,000 small acts of kindness.

I’m going to take today to work on forgiveness. That’s a big, big bite to take on a Monday morning. But I refuse to have chains of anger wrapped around me anymore. I’m not going to be held prisoner by someone else’s fear. On this Monday, I break free of the bonds of anger. And I know the key is to forgive those who I think have wronged me. Even if they know they have or not!

Yup, It’s Monday morning. The sun is out and the sky is a brilliant cobalt blue. I am sitting her counting my blessings — I may not have enough time! And I am going to be thankful for my challenges. They are just opportunities dressed up in ugly clothing. I’m so amazingly blessed.

Thank God it’s Monday.