this is all good stuff

I’m wearing my new Eisley t-shirt that I got at the concert Friday night. It’s dark gray and says “Eisley” on it, if you can imagine that. I bought a youth large, b/c I don’t like shirts that swallow me. And I’m a runt.

Slowly but surely I’m making progress editing the chapters of my book. I’m enjoying this more than I thought I would; writing it is a very healing process for me. Some parts of it make me cry every time I read them, but that’s good. One of these days I will write an entry in this journal introducing Jacob to those who read this and don’t know him. He is my first-born, and his story is the inspiration for the book. I haven’t talked about him much here, but I will.

Okay. Everyone should have people in their lives who admire them and compliment them. I like compliments, and I don’t think that is a bad thing. I also like to give compliments, but only when I mean them. I despise flattery. It leaves a metallic taste in your mouth that even listerine can’t erase. Anyway, about compliments. I have a high-school buddy, Jeff. We really haven’t kept in super-great touch over the years, except that we send Christmas cards with pictures. So I know he is married with three adorable sons, the oldest of which I’m guessing is about eight. He lives in the DC area and is a very successful business man. (He sent Luke way too much money for graduation.) Not long ago, out of the blue, I got an e-mail from him, and the subject line said, “Is this your correct e-mail address?” I opened it and there was no text. Just the subject line. So I answered it. My subject line said “yep.” No text.

A couple days later I got another e-mail. He said he was on the shuttle from NY to DC and sent a quick note about how his oldest son was about to go to camp for the first time. Just a random bit of nothing. But I loved it because, well . . . you need to understand something about Jeff. He was one of those friends who just marched right into your heart, because he belonged there. He was funny. Very funny. He was also an artist. A talented artist. He could draw anything. My favorite way to spend the study hall period (when I actually went) was playing our game: I would tell him something to draw on a piece of paper. Then he would tell me something to add to the drawing. And so forth. By the end of the hour, the paper was full of the most ridiculous nonsense. We always tried to come up with something the other person couldn’t possibly draw. Then the other person drew it anyway. Ah, fun memories. I loved Jeff because he didn’t fit the typical high-school boy mold. He seemed more real. Real and fun and interesting.

Well, I’m getting to my point here. The whole thing about compliments. I know that Jeff has always thought I was special, and he never tried to hide it. So it wasn’t too surprising when I got this e-mail:

Subject: So I saw Sheryl Crow last night. Great seats up front.

Kept thinking to myself “this could be Jeanne…”. But for a couple
minor changes in your life plans you could be living her life.

That was the whole thing. And it made my day. Of course, I know good and well that a few minor changes in my life plan would not have guaranteed my becoming a celebrity like Sheryl Crow. But Jeff believes it. He honestly does. And that’s a nice feeling. It’s also nice to know that e-mails of that sort will drop into my inbox at unexpected times, just because there’s a person I used to know a long time ago who still thinks about me.

When I think nice things about people, I want to remember to tell them.