The strange part about this poem is that I almost didn’t allow myself the chance to read it.
Sometimes it feels like there are periods of life that are so busy, so overwhelming, that everything is happening all at once. That feeling reminds me of when I used to commute from New Jersey into New York City on New Jersey Transit. I can picture myself sitting on that train and suddenly thinking, “How many people are on trains right now? How many people from across the entire New York metro area are all converging on Manhattan in these trains and buses?”
All of that busyness. All of that humanity. All of those people. And somehow, all of that energy ends up going through just a couple of small tunnels.
It is this feeling of pressure. Everything being pushed through one narrow place. It felt like that when I was on the train, and sometimes, life feels like that too…
Similar to a train, life seems to operate in two modalities. There are moments when you are in motion. Things are going fast. You are heading through a tunnel. There is energy and noise and pressure. And then the train stops.
And there is calm at the train stop.
There are periods where you can breathe, have conversations, and reflect. And then you are back on the train again. At least that is how I have experienced it. Sometimes those busy periods can feel very short, or they can feel like a lifetime. Sometimes those calm periods can feel very short, or they can feel like a lifetime.
And I know some of you right now are reading this and you are in it.
For me, starting at the beginning of this year, I found myself in one of those busy train seasons. All of those train cars trying to go through one tunnel kind of thing. And I have been trying to manage it.
I am not complaining at all. It is just that I know myself. I know my strengths. And logistics are not one of them. There is a reason I have the best wife in the world, who handles a lot of things for me, because I am a disaster logistically. I have people who help with parts of my business from a coordination standpoint because there is so much going on that I had to sort of scale out.
And right around that time, when the new year started and the busyness really started to increase, and my mental capacity and capability started to become challenged, I committed to something.
It was an event I really wanted to do because it had to do with storytelling, education, and creative kids. And it was a great honor.
A woman named Jennifer reached out to me. She was coordinating a program called Children’s Ink, part of Roxboro Elementary School in Cleveland Heights. It is this amazing event built around hundreds of students submitting poetry. Then a handful of kids are selected, and their poems and creative vision are honored.
The kids get to sit in this chair, almost like a throne, uplifting their accomplishment. Then they are paired with creatives, community leaders, influencers, artists, and people making a difference in their field in Northeast Ohio. Those guests go on stage and read the poem out loud in front of the entire auditorium while the writer of the poem, the student, sits there and listens to their work being read in front of their peers, teachers, parents, and community.
It is phenomenal.
I had never done anything like this before, but when I heard about it, I immediately thought, “Yes.”
But you know when your heart says yes, and then your brain kind of follows behind it and says, “Oh gosh, I want to, but…”
That is where I was.
I found myself on that train car of busyness in life, and honestly, it was looking like it was going to be really hard to make this event. I was close to canceling.
Jennifer, who may be reading this now, did not know that.
And not to be overdramatic about it, but I was stuck. Should I cancel? Should I not cancel? Should I cancel? Should I not cancel?
It is weird because I knew it would not be the end of the world. But there was something else at stake for me. I do not even know what it was.
But I know all of us face little moments like that, except they are not really little moments. And sometimes, maybe even often, when facing those decisions, I choose wrong.
But this time, luckily, I talked to my wife. And I prayed.
And at least on this day, I decided to get off the busyness locomotive train that was heading for the pressurized tunnel. I decided to walk through the train station, take a breath, and make my way to Roxboro Elementary School in Cleveland Heights to read a poem.
It was one of the best decisions I have ever made.
Then I met Kody.
The smile on his face said everything. When it was our turn to go up on stage, Jennifer called us up. Kody sat in that throne where he deserved to sit. Before we walked up, he told me, “I’m a little nervous.”
I said, “You have nothing to be nervous about. This day is about you. And wait until you see the smiles on the people’s faces in the auditorium when they hear your words. You won’t believe it. This is your day.”
We went up on stage. He sat down.
This is Kody’s poem:
Orange Poem
I’m poured orange in a juice glass.
Mmm.
Refreshing orange taste.
I hear a bouncing basketball in the yard.
Children calling me,
“Come and play. Come and play.”
Halloween is the orange-colored time of year.
Leaves turn orange in fall.
Pumpkins and jack-o’-lanterns are everywhere.
And Grandma fills jars with homemade marmalade,
bakes a carrot cake with four orange layers.
We go trick-or-treating.
I’m dressed as a tiger with a long tail.
Nixie, the cat, is in a fox costume.
We’ve got candies wrapped in orange foil,
some apricots,
some jelly beans,
and a lot of lollipops are also orange.
Thanks Kody.
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