Then suddenly, and without warning

I’ve survived. Of course I have. But lately, it appears as though I’ve been enduring a series of unforeseen incidents. No one was hurt in the creation of these events. (I’ve never felt like a victim. Can’t say why, but I never have.) However, I’m starting to wonder if the power of living a life without compromise might have something to do with planning. Certainly NONE of these surprises were planned. That’s the nature of surprise, after all. Yet I find that, when I’m caught in the middle of complex emotions and rational thought, I get nervous.

Frankly, it’s the only time I find myself getting nervous. And oddly tongue-tied.

I staunchly maintain that being on tour with both the Missoula Children’s Theatre and the Young People’s Theatre Project prepared me for anything. On the road, you learn to expect the unexpected, and take it in stride when things don’t quite work out as planned. (There’s that word again … planned.) To calm others down prior to theatrical events, I tell them the story of the two pee-wees playing pumpkins in Cinderella. These were five- and six-year-olds dressed as pumpkins. I  would sing a song with them, and they would do a little pumpkin dance. Believe me, no one cares about you when you are surrounded by 20 very small children dressed as pumpkins. So, there we were, me and the pumpkins, waiting to go onstage probably somewhere in the frozen tundra of Alberta, Canada. And there were two pumpkins clearly at opposite ends of the stage-fright spectrum. One was calm, the other was crazed, but clearly had a sense of humor. The calm one said, “I hope I remember my song.” The other one said, “I hope I don’t spit up blood.” To this day, whenever something goes awry on-stage I think to myself, “No one ever spit up blood doing this.”

So tell me, why … in the midst of not one, but two catastrophic computer failures … I became that guy. You know the one. The asshole on the other end of the phone that blames you for things not working. Or not working out. Or not working as planned. Try as I might, I tend to think of these things in terms of balance. True … my livelihood is at stake … but I’ve become a strong advocate for technology. So much so it should never fail me. Right? I’m pissed and won’t take no for an answer and … nervous. At my worst. Not my finest hour.

And then, there I am, driving home from the grocery store yesterday with turkey in tow feeling useless. I mean it. At the time, in my world no PC=no worth. No value whatsoever. I’m talking bottom-of-the-barrel stuff now.

When suddenly, and without warning, my phone rings.

Unfamiliar number, but I answer it anyway.

“Mr. Byington? It’s [name of former student]. I don’t know if you remember me, but I just wanted to thank you for teaching me way back when. I want you to know that you really made a difference in my life, and I’m very grateful for the effort and time you put in to working with all of us.”

(I swear to you I’m not making this up.)

And I’m blubbering like a baby when I say, “Well, [name of former student], I want to thank you! You really made a difference in my life, and this call couldn’t have come at a better time.”

Day made. Nerves calmed. PC fixed.