I Am a Common Man

There are those in this world whom I admire greatly for their commitment and sacrifice. I do not number myself among them – I am far too self-centered and introspective to reach out as they do. I am not a teacher, firefighter, police officer, soldier or health-care professional. I belong to no charitable organization, though I give when I can. I do not help those in need on a daily basis, though I would do so if their suffering were mine to alleviate. I do not inspire or cajole others to contribute, to rise above themselves and their personal needs to reach out to those who need them most.

Yet I feel that I give to the world in my small way. I strive to be a good father in a world where fathers are not always there (mine wasn’t). I work hard to deliver good service to my customers in an honest manner, and I vote my conscience in every election. I support my wife in her career as a teacher, the noblest of professions, for she is one of the good ones, a caring soul with a real love for those given into her care.

I belong to no church, not because they do no good, but because they do good based on beliefs I cannot fathom. Yet I feel that I am a spiritual man; I live according to beliefs which I dare not tout as truth, only as sensible and affirmed by my life’s experience. That to have good in your life, you must live well and work hard, and judge no other not only because you might be judged, but because you will come to believe that everyone judges you as harshly. Such voices will only beat you down in the end.

And so I do not judge myself. I check in with myself once in a while, though, to see if I am still comfortable in my own skin; still positive of my course in life; still equipped, by my own simple standards, for sound dealings with the world and its people.

I believe that I am a common man. Not the unkind and alien stereotype, obsessed with useless pastimes and illusory dreams of freedom somehow lost in becoming adult; but a man who lives to be the best he can be in his own microcosm. A man who asks for respect in a world where we all tug uncomfortably at our collars, who wishes for justice with the certain knowledge that some, but not enough, will be achieved. A man with a map of the stars in his head and the stars’ homes in his pocket, dreaming of distant voyages while chasing a dream for those he loves. I am a common man, who snaps awake on the threshold of slumber with the thought, “I will die some day.” And eases back to sleep saying silently to himself, “yes, but that is as it will be. You will have lived well.”