This story speaks for itself. Dad shows his training in philosophy with this one. I too, am an avid people watcher. I worry about getting caught staring, sometimes. It’s just that certain people traits are fascinating to me. I wonder which people I’m watching are watching me watching them watch me. Sorry bout’ that! I just had to . . .
I hope you enjoy this story,
David T
“No man is an island”
By Don Tschirhart
Excerpted from the unpublished book “It’s a Wonderful World: A Retired Reporter Looks At Life“
Are you a people watcher? Most people pay little attention to those who share their immediate world, passing them by as if they don’t exist.
Not me! I love to see — really see — people . . . the young, the older. the cute, the handsome, the not-so-cute and not-so-handsome. The ones with beards, handlebar mustaches and those without. The smilers, the grouches and the in-between. All races and nationalities are interesting. And I love to “see” people who sit in wheelchairs.
The array of different people amazes me as I stroll store aisles — whether Kohl’s, Rite-Aid Drugs, Farmer Jack’s or Meijer’s — or even in restaurants.
The other day as I walked swiftly around the oval track at the Lapeer Community (gymnasium) Center I wondered if any of my fellow exercisers felt alone. Were they thinking about me as I was thinking about them?
I can imagine the thoughts of those who I pass or pass me by. Are they saying to themselves: “There’s that little fat guy with the glasses and multi-colored beard.” or “Why is he always smiling? He says he’s fantastic or even perfect. He’s a liar. Nobody is that good”
One walker is always seemingly oblivious to his surroundings. Does he think he’s alone or is he aware of others around him?
The other morning, a couple of days after Easter, I was thinking about God and how He had made me the product of all my relatives, friends, teachers, fellow workers and those wondrous figures — good and bad — that I’ve read about in history books.
I remembered a phrase I had read in a high school English class that now made a lot of sense. It was in a poem by the 17th century English writer John Donne. He said:
“No man is an island, entire of itself.”
Each of us, I realized, is like a stone dropped in calm water creating ripples expanding outward until they stop at a shoreline.
I thought about the cynical man whose letter appeared a few weeks ago in the County Press arguing that God was a figment of government imagination in order to enslave the masses. And then there was the fundamentalist preacher who demanded everyone read only the King James Version of the Bible or go to hell.
I wondered how far their stones will ripple in life, how many people they would touch.
Isn’t it wonderful, though, to think how wonderful our country is that allows freedom of speech and religion (even if it’s no religion).
I applaud County Press editors for courage in providing a forum for ideas that are in good taste but probably different from the thinking of a majority of readers and the editors.
Just where do my ideas originate? How far will my ripples extend. This is a question all of us should ask ourselves.
Obviously, my mom and dad dropped their stones and taught me about hard work. My mom knelt to pray with me next to my bed each night. I’ve never forgotten to pray.
A couple of Dominican sisters taught me discipline and patience with other people.
A few of my editors at The Detroit News influenced my objective thinking in my early years. “You’ve got to get both sides of a story,” one said. “You’ve got to get used to change; it’s a main part of life,” another said.
Aside from my parents and wife, the person who influenced my life more than any other was my senior home room teacher at Catholic Central High School, Fr. John Sheehy. He taught his students that God was “real” and a “good guy,” not someone to fear.
An avid reader of “dime western novels,” Fr. John was a great history teacher. He made George Washington, Abe Lincoln, the mountain men and the thousands of people who in the 1850s migrated across the country in covered wagons come alive.
He did not isolate himself on an island. His stone-spirit hit the water of life and rippled out to influence hundreds of young boys whose own spirit influenced thousands to lead exemplary lives.
That is something the atheist and the rabid preacher will never do.
I saw Fr. John’s picture in our alumni magazine the other day. I said a prayer of thanks to God for sharing such a man with me.
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