After my volunteer shift to safeguard the Tower during the Bastards Ball, I wandered down to Tuscan Hall to see what whiskies that have not touched my palate. Of the familiar faces that greeted my gaze was a young man with a long beard. Kind of like the one that decorated my face a year ago. He was thin, about my height and wore a while t-shirt with some kind of saying on it.
He pulled me aside to claim that I was one of his favorite instructors at the Academy. I remember him from one of the Whiskey Somm courses, but couldn’t place the date. He told me that one of the lessons he carried with him to this day was “Show don’t tell”. And that it changed his relationship with his now 8 year old son because it was as much a way of living as writing.
Even though he never took off the sunglasses, I could read the sincerity and appreciation in his eyes. It was then that a powerful emotion geysered up and pressured my own eyes to glaze. Turning my head helped me recompose my thoughts and breath.
He went on to explain that everytime he comes to the Academy, that it feels like home.
He also made reference to you and I writing a book, which I did not correct even though it was not true. It was the same ethos used in Animal House, when Bluto cried “Was it over when the Germans blew up Pearl Harbor…”, Otter explained “Forget it, he’s rolling.”
We hugged our goodbyes. Then I found an Irish-style, Colorado-born whiskey to help me integrate what just happened.
And as I drove home a few thoughts came into consciousness. That feeling of home, that precious taste of belonging was exactly my experience in 2008 when I first arrived with 34 Dell people in tow. It’s a memory that blankets me to this day when I drive onto that limestone parking lot.
As David Brooks said in his Ted Talk, “You spend the first half of your life building your resume and the second building your eulogy”. At 55 this year, I’ve come to better understand what it means to make a difference in this world. And in those rare moments when you do actually get the feedback, it only renews the soul. Even if it meant only changing just one life. Or in this case, three.
Respecting this young man, clearly he jumbled up his memories. While I do preach “Show don’t tell”, it’s more likely that he learned that from Chris Maddock. And the fantasy that we co-authored something suggests further conflation.
But in many ways that doesn’t really matter. Because it’s not “me”, it’s “us”. It’s the community building the community. And that’s a powerful feeling to be a contributing member.
One last thought. I’ve wondered since whether the universe was giving me a chance to talk to a younger version of myself. A way of thanking him for taking the chance on this Brand of Crazy. Or for him a chance to see how it all turned out.
Hope to speak with you soon.
– Anthony Dina