Rick Manelius

No matter which way the wind blew, there was always the subtle hint of cow manure in the air. This is what happens when you live directly between two dairy farms, which is where my family was situated for the first 17 years of my life. It was sort of a metaphor for the otherwise beautiful scenery of Glen, NY: namely that life never changed much and it was difficult to get a “fresh” start (pun intended).

Perhaps this is why my math teacher was so adamant about me going to college out of state. He even went as far as driving me out to MIT, probably to make sure I didn’t chicken out. This same teacher would lament about the fates of students that couldn’t quite make a clean break from the hometown and move far enough away. Inevitably, a large percentage of them would return to their parents homes within 6 to 12 months, staying only long enough before setting up permanent residence in the old hometown. And to further solidify the pattern, many would start living the same types of lives and lifestyles as their parents instead of creating their own.

She shoos me up the staircase
while smiling
while encouraging
while prattling on
like a proud mother

“I don’t think I can”
Yet she pays no attention
and rushes past me
stopping only to point intensely
at the small X mark upon center stage

One spotlight
Exposing one, lonely microphone
(the focal point)
of a million eyeballs

One Moment
To stand my creation up
naked
in front of the masses
will they judge?
Of course!

Often, the greatest miracles that occur in our lives initially show up as something ominous, dangerous, and negative. But we are but one set of eyes among 7 billion and an almost infinite number of moving parts that make up our universe. From our vantage point, who knows what’s really good and bad? If only we could peer over the shoulder of God and see the great cosmic game of chess from his perspective. Maybe then we’d realize what is good and bad can change in an instant, depending on the contextual lens we are using in that brief moment in time.

“You should write a book.”

Although I always appreciated the compliment, but I could never tell if it was sincere or not. Was I really that good or creative at writing? Or was it simply like the words of a mother, who’s unconditional love was so strong that even a finger painting of a blue dog would land itself on the fridge.

Honestly, it doesn’t really matter. We all have things to share (thoughts, pictures, stories, laughs, hugs) and it gets boring to sit on the sidelines and let everyone else have the fun. Sure, we can be self depreciating and claim that no one will care or our actions won’t mean anything. But I disagree. Sometimes the seemingly insignificant things we in life can completely change the lives of someone else, whether we know it or not. And so what if it doesn’t? I’m not willing to take that chance!