Ann Jillian In Praise of Silent Heroes
That's Ray at left with Ann's husband, Andy Murcia, at a Chicago Cubs game.
By ANN JILLIAN
of TheColumnists.com
THEY SAY that the best subject to write about is something that "moves" you. I've been trying to follow that advice in my new role as a columnist.
For instance, how can one
not be moved upon hitting 50 years of age? I believe anyone
who has, or will, will take a tiny moment, at least, and swallow
a little harder at the realization that they have been on this
planet for half a century. And who among us has not taken a deep
breath when his or her young one has made that first independent
move toward self sufficiency? What about those secret desires
or regrets? And, let's not forget about the other people
who've meandered into our lives through various ways and left
indelible impressions in our memories.
I've been "moved" to write about some of the "famous"
because of my observations of their strong, regal, gracious,
loving, or humble qualities. I have been too "moved"
to write of my own wonderful parents, whom I have lost and who
had every one of those previously mentioned qualities, and more.
(That will be rectified as soon as I find every glowing term
in the most complete dictionary of our language).
But what of all the other
hardworking people who are quietly and honorably living their
lives in the simple neighborhoods tucked silently away in urban,
suburban, and rural parts of our great nation? No paparazzi
stand hidden in the landscape to catch a valuable picture of
them as they carry on their everyday chores. Yet, their lives
are every bit as "valuable" and no less "worthy"
of note.
I've seen them. I've talked to them. I've observed, with great
admiration, their efforts on behalf of their families and communities.
While I can't write about each and every one of them, as much
as I would like to, I can focus on an individual from
time to time.
MY CHOICE today leads me
to a small house on the outskirts of the great city of Chicago,
Illinois. Here, seemingly far away from the cosmopolitan nature
of the Gold Coast and it's "commercial" attractiveness,
an equally productive flurry of activity has existed for decades
behind the humble entryway of a small, Monopoly-like house standing
neatly amid a row of almost identical bungalows disappearing
into the perspective. The house may be of modest scale, but the
hearts of its occupants are of the most superior proportions.
Ray and Irene, the couple who live in this home, were high school
sweethearts. (Ray married the girl at the candy counter from
the neighborhood movie theater.) For years, they've lovingly
provided for a family of seven on a policeman's salary. How do
I know? Ray was my husband's partner. My husband. Andy
Murcia, was one of Chicago's finest years ago and these two "gendarmes"
shared a squad car and many family experiences together.
Before this alliance was formed, however, Ray had known the bitter
reality of the streets. He'd been promoted to the rank of Detective
and assigned to the toughest neighborhood, Area 2 Robbery, where,
it was commonly known among the police, the vicious felons would
just as soon shoot their pursuers than leave any possibility
of identification.
Time and time again he would return to the station after shootings,
robberies and near-fatal confrontations in the grimy arteries
of metropolitan Chicago. Never complaining, ever-ready with a
smile to answer the question, "How ya doin?" with,
"Never had a bad day in my life..."
My husband had told me about this. I just smiled. I'd like to
believe it, but in consideration of the possibly sanguine nature
of the job, I thought that response to be an embellishment on,
at best, "Not bad..."
Then, I had the pleasure
of meeting Ray and asked the customary, "How are You?"
He replied--you guessed it: "Never had a bad day in my life."
Well shut my mouth! It's true!
I don't know why I didn't accept it before. Perhaps urban living
had damaged my previously sheltered view and I forgot that I
was an optimist. His response reminded me, and I was re-inspired.
What does that mean, to never have a bad day in your life? No
disappointment, confusion, heartache, bodily pain, loss, illness?
What? I found he knew them all, which was why his familiar reply
left me even more curious.
Surely, I thought, like all families, the demands of everyday
life had been punctuated with special needs uniquely their
own. We all know from our own families, that it is a rare occurance,
indeed, if all offspring in the same family turn out to be exactly
the same in nature and desires. Usually, being different as night
and day is more the case, and catering to these very varied demands
for five children, for example, from birth through adulthood
is a mission "heroic" in and by itself. Ray and Irene
answered the demands without flinching. These were the growing
human beings for which they were responsible. They were there
for them for whatever their needs were.
What really made me stop to admire this man were the accounts,
in passing, brought home by my husband, of this man's devotion
to his ailing mother and father. If you make mention of this,
Ray emphatically includes the devotion of his wife, Irene, saying,
"I helped Irene. She did the lion's share. She gave 100
per cent."
In a house barely big enough for his own family, he took his
aged mama and papa in and cared for them. He and his wife. Tirelessly,
they provided them with attention that could only be given by
loving family.
To care for a parent with health problems is a challenge. To
care for a mother or father with severe progressive dementia
is a labor of love calling upon the greatest of patience and
fortitude.
His mama was suffering from such a dementia, and his father had
a severe heart condition that required assistance in every aspect
of life, since the heart condition had left him so fragile and
unable to motivate on his own. It was on one of these countless
occasions, while carrying his father to another room of the house,
that Ray's father died in his arms. How comforting it must have
been for a father to close his eyes for the last time in the
arms of a loving son who would gently and reverently surrender
the soul of the father for whom he so lovingly cared to
the loving care and arms of our heavenly Father.
He watched his mother's mental faculties being sapped by a most
vicious, invisible thief, Alzheimer's disease, and the detective
was powerless. He could do nothing to retrieve the treasure of
her mind, but he could and did, with Irene's devotion, walk the
lonely and frightening path with his mother, and see her through
to her "reward."
I thought about him often in his little house, with his large
family, after a long day or night of a frequently dangerous and,
most often, underappreciated job. Removing the blue and white
checkered hat of the Chicago Police Department or the cap of
a plain clothes detective, replacing it with the hat of a parent
to five diverse personalities, slipping that hat off to change
it to a husband's derby and quickly shifting to, yet, another...that
of caregiver. It was an awesome juggling act. So how does he
do it? How does a humble man with no visible physical characteristics
of a "lean, mean fighting machine" or superhero
answer these Herculean tasks?
With LOVE, HOPE and TRUST.
Put them together... it becomes a word called "FAITH."
Love is self explanatory. It is a well-spring of "good,"
of compassion. Love cannot be used up or depleted. Quite the
opposite. It fuels the mind and soul to give more if it comes
from purity of the heart, the kind that a child has. Pure
and simple. Lustrous in its innocence.
Hope. A beautiful word in any language. Hope for the future of
his children and grandchildren. Hope that his hands would bring
relief for a frail father's sufferings. Hope that his steps,
accompanying hers down the dark and murky corridors of Alzheimer's,
can help to alleviate the frightening prospects of a mind slipping
in and out of reality for a beloved mother. Hope that he will
come back from his job and walk through his door in the same
unharmed condition as when he walked out of it. Hopes for
his retirement after he's helped everyone with their
journeys.
Trust in the promise of his God's help. He knows without a doubt,
that while the cross he has picked up to carry bears a heavy
load on his aging bones, he is not alone. God's cheek
brushes up against his and his wife's as they carry a papa or
mama up the stairs.
It is also this "divine breath" that endows humble
perseverence into a parents' loving duties, that empowers a man
to say, in the face of all his own health challenges (an oxygen
cannister is his new, close friend these days), "Hey, I never had a bad day in
my life!"
There are many who are written about, whose accomplishments have
been penned in the offices of publicity agents, and who languish
in the glow of very superficial work. Then, there are those like
Ray. He's one of our true "silent" heroes, whose daily
activities go pretty much unnoticed. Perhaps you thought no one
was watching? We have been. We have been watching and it pleases
me to tell others of it. I've even tried to inspire others as
you've re-inspired me with a motivational program titled with
that fabulous answer, "Never had a bad day in my life!"
that we should all answer life's trials with the same, positive
approach.
If I could speak directly to Ray right now, I guess what
I'd really want to say is..Ya did good! You and that pretty candy
girl from the neighborhood movie theater. I'm proud to know both
of you. And I mean that very sincerely.
© 2001 by Ann Jillian Murcia. The Ann Jillian caricature is © 2000 by Jim Hummel.
You can comment on this column or contact Ann Jillian with an email to: talkback@thecolumnists.com
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is a three time EMMY nominee and Golden Globe Award winner, and the internationally-acclaimed star of stage, screen and television. She made her debut as a columnist last year on TheColumnists.com. In addition to her well-known work as an actress and singer, Jillian also keeps busy as a most entertaining motivational speaker, utilizing both her comedic and musical talents in her lecture programs. She speaks on life, health & the joys of motherhood. She also inspires audiences with her frank talk about the positive side of surviving breast cancer, and the ongoing role of faith in her life. |
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