Cento anni fa, quando ero al college, it was my job to plan all the big events for the university’s Student Union.
And when it was Halloween and I had to plan the Student Union Party, I had this bright idea (!?) that I wanted a skeleton to greet everyone as they entered the party. Come risulta, to find a skeleton at a large university is not the most difficult thing in the world, if you are willing to work for it.
And I was.
After inquiring all over campus, I finally found a skeleton at the medical school, in the anatomy lab.
(Woohoo!)
The only caveat was that I had to go to the medical school on my own to retrieve it. True to my (adventurous?) nature, I walked all the way to the other end of campus to claim (mio) skeleton. Of course I felt quite a bit ridiculous as entered the cadaver lab.
So now, little me, nineteen-years old, è stato visto portare uno scheletro in tutto il campus. Due giorni dopo, L'ho tirato indietro.
Ma mentre camminavo con le ossa pensavo agli israeliti che portarono le ossa di Giuseppe fuori dall'Egitto quando se ne andarono — tenendo unita tutta la famiglia.
Mi chiedo quale sia la persona che ha lasciato quel particolare scheletro alla scienza. Mi chiedevo chi fossidavvero portare alla festa. Qui, sul carrello, era il centro di una persona, di quella persona molto centrale. Senza riguardo al loro nome, se stesso, il comportamento, famiglia — Li avevamo “semplificato” alla forma scheletrica. Ovviamente avrei potuto portare chiunque a quella festa. Chiunque — assolutamente nessuno di noi — a quella festa.
Perché, sai, tutti hanno le ossa.
Molto al di sotto della nostra pelle, le nostre personalità, i nostri sistemi di credenze, stato socioeconomico…la nostra lingua….siamo fatti di ossa.
Le nostre ossa ci tengono in piedi.
Our bones are our stamina.
Our bones keep us strong.
Our bones are what we are really made of.
When times are difficult — in a very real sense — it is our bones that get us through. When something is felt very deeply, it is said that we ‘feel it in our bones’. Our bones are our framework. Like a tree with its trunk and branches — our bones frame us in the world.
As a tree grows, our bones grow.
When we are young, like young trees, we are flexible. When we are older, sometimes like older trees — we become more dry and brittle…
Like bones.
To see the quality of someone’s bones — to determine if they are brittle or strong or pliant…to look into their “bag of bones”, that would be quite a feat, I believe. If one could only catch a glimpse of how another is very deep inside, to get a feel for their framework, then this could possibly reveal what they are made of…
There is this story of a man I know — a man who was a pallbearer at the funeral of his friend.
For him and for all, it was a terrible day. Not just for obvious reasons, but it was also chilly and rainy.
It was the worst kind of day for a day like this.
After the graveside service had concluded, the attendees returned to their cars.
However, this one man did not move.
He stood until the workers had finished their chore.
He stayed in the rain. standing in the cold.
Because he did not want her to be buried alone.
Then he walked the mile to the house of mourning and arrived, dripping wet.
Sai, sometimes we don’t know what people are really made of. We don’t know the strength and quality of their convictions. We don’t know the strength of their bones…until one day we see a man who arrives late and dripping wet — because he did not want her to be buried alone.
Perhaps you see this sort of thing all the time…but I do not.
Everybody, I believe, has something that we don’t know about them: something that is buried deep beneath their skin and their eyeglasses and their sweaters and their socks — and their political views and their opinions…
Hopefully it is something good.
One day we might be lucky enough to see:
to finally see who they are really bringing to the party.
Something that will amaze us: their bones.