Category: 2020-March

Some people won’t like this. Oh, well. See your therapist.

I have enormous respect for the basketball program in Chapel Hill. Carolina. Excellence is not easy. It requires hard work and a bit of good fortune. In necessitates the right people in the right place at the right time doing the right thing. That seldom happens.

Frank McGuire. Dean Smith. Bill Guthridge. Roy Williams.

Longevity at the highest level is rare. The pedigree of the Tar Heel hardwood is unparalleled.

Beyond the wins and the championships… Carolina basketball is all about family. The boys in baby blue look after each other. I admire the loyalty. It’s painfully obvious to the rest of us, who peek in from the outside.

Inclusion. Part five of five. This is it. The final story. I’ve written about church and church again. The ACC Tournament. One lost soul. And now…

Family.

Growing up, I didn’t have a big family. I’m not bitter. I feel sorry for those people obligated to attend a family reunion of 50. Or more. Yuck. I cannot imagine. No thanks. I’ll pass.

Beyond Vikki and Sophia and Miles and a few chosen others… my family is as it has almost always been.

Gretchen. Uncle Larry. Terry. John. Summer Enrichment. Summer school. There are others, too, of course. But, these are the big four. Four of the biggest. The brightest. The best.

Every summer of my life. People talk about it, but it’s impossible to fully understand without having lived it. These supremely gifted individuals defined my existence. They refined my perspective. As much as, and likely more so than, any array of hearts and minds found in any universe, these souls are collectively responsible for who I am.

My mother always said Gretchen’s loyalty was unmatched. “We could call Gretchen in the middle of the night and ask her to bring Krispy Kreme doughnuts to church, and she would.” Gretch joined the Summer Enrichment family when she was barely a grownup. She was immediately “good.” She grew into brilliance. And smart… The good Lord knows, Gretchen knows more about everything than almost everybody. She is the person I trust most in the world. She has never ever been less than honest with me.

Uncle Larry. My mama and Larry found each other at North Forsyth and remained together until, well, forever. I love my Uncle Larry. I LOVE my Uncle Larry. He’s not really my uncle, but that was never the point. The superintendent’s office called North one day for clarification, because (unbeknownst to the rest of the world) there was a running argument as to whether Maggie and Larry were really brother and sister. Larry was the best man at my wedding. Any artistic flair or vision or whatever it might be that dwells within my soul is primarily a result of the hours I spent standing beside him, trying to see what he saw.

Terry. He was not one of the “originals” at Summer Enrichment, but he was the missing piece that, once present, elevated everything from outrageously fantastic to freakin’ ridiculous. He is, without question, the finest musician I know. His music is not his own. I wish I could explain it. No mortal is that good. God chose Terry. The artistry flows from his heart. I wish I could be as good at anything as Terry is at everything. His passion for doing the best we can do is unbelievable. When my school children ask, “Why do you think we can do this?” Terry is the answer.

And John. He didn’t do Summer School “forever.” He slayed other dragons and conquered other realms. John has always been a part of my life. We played football. We clogged. We acted goofy in choir practice. We talked about girls and eventually women. He may, or may not, have provided me with an adult beverage before I was of age. John was the source of much of the fun in my life.

This was my family. They cheered me. Challenged me. Provoked me. Disciplined me. Trusted me. Taught me. Loved me.

More than anything, they loved me. They gave me every chance to be good. Sometimes, we were great.

It wasn’t only me. Along with my mama, they gave thousands of kids the chance to be good. They created a family that did the impossible year after year after year. All of us belonged.

Margaret liked some kids more than others. Gretchen would deal with some. Terry claimed the rest. For the most part, the summer school kids (the smart ones, anyway) didn’t mess with Uncle Larry. John loved everybody, except that one guy with all the bandanas…

We were included. Everybody. The shows were invariably good. Occasionally, there was unrivaled excellence.

The orphans from ANNIE. The last number in 42^ND STREET. Kids flying amid indoor fireworks with BARNUM. THE SOUND OF MUSIC cast was spectacular from top to bottom.

The moments were unending. Some people (a LOT, actually) were unforgettable. Michael. Candace. Tony. Mary.

My brothers and sisters. My family.

The power of inclusion. Ordinary people doing extraordinary things. Longevity. Pedigree.

The right people in the right place at the right time doing the right thing.

Summer School was, and these people are, the source of much of the good in my life. I miss it, terribly.

I yearn to find my own Gretchen and Uncle Larry and Terry and John. I hope to discover another collection of artistry and brilliance for another generation.

“A rope made from three strands of cord is not easily broken.” – Ecclesiastes 4:12

I wish, for the world, that you each may know the joy that comes from being intentionally included. It is powerful. Jesus knew it. I know it. I hope you find it.

You are loved. Amen.