Extraordinarily ordinary

I recently received the following anonymous comment to a post I wrote a few months ago:

“Ordinary and extraordinary are relative words. For you a house, a happy family and a steady job is an ordinary life. Ask the boat people desperate to come into the USA what an extraordinary life is, and chances are they will ask for maybe a fraction of what you take for granted in your everyday life. Or closer home, ask the dirty hack with the trolley in the shady lane - for her, yours is the kind of life she can only live in her dreams.”

When I first read it, I felt bad.

The more I thought about it, the less bad I felt.

But I would like to take this opportunity to explore this idea a bit more.

First, I stand by my post. I am an ordinary man. There is nothing about me that is particularly unique, special, or remarkable. I say that not in a self-deprecating way. I think I have pretty good self esteem. I like myself, I’m proud of who I am. When I look in the mirror I think, other than being old and a bit heavier that I’d like, I’m a pretty decent guy.

My wife and kids love me. I’m reasonably intelligent and hard-working. At every job I’ve ever had, when I’ve moved on people have told me they’ll miss me. So I must be making a positive contribution with my labor in those places I have worked, and gotten along with my peers in the process. In other words, I don’t stick the knife in someone’s back to get ahead.

I go to church on a (somewhat) regular basis. I give a bit to charity. When the neighborhood kid comes to the door selling something for a fundraiser, I buy it.

I live in a modest home in a middle class neighborhood, indistinguishable from any home within 5 miles. Yes, I do have a hot tub and a camping machine – things not found at every house in my neighborhood, but not as uncommon as you might think.

My point in all of this? For where I live, in the time I am living, this constitutes ordinary.

As the anonymous commenter noted, ordinary is relative. I agree with her or her on that point. The ‘boat people’ or the ‘dirty hack with the trolley in the shady lane’ would, no doubt, gladly trade places with me and count themselves extraordinarily fortunate.

I’ll take that one step further. It’s my unscientific opinion that if it were somehow possible to quantify the lifestyle of every single person on earth, I would probably be in the top 20% in terms of material possessions and overall quality of life. I don’t mean this in a bragging way. I’m just assuming that my USA middle (perhaps upper middle) class life, in purely economic terms, provides more security, comfort, material resources and opportunity than 80% or so of everyone else on this earth.

Surely, you’d say, that is more than ordinary.

And measured in those terms, I guess I’d agree.

What I was trying to accomplish in the original post was less about material possessions and more about achievement. I began by describing the time I met Peter Jennings, a man I admired and respected. I believe he was an extraordinary man.

Extraordinary is Abraham Lincoln. Mahatma Ghandi. Madame Curie.

Albert Einstein, born many years ago today, March 14.

Pick your hero – we all have them. People who are extraordinary stand above the rest of us – not by the things they have, but by the things they do. They influence more than the lives of family and friends – they change the world, or contribute something meaningful to society at large.

Last time I checked, I hadn’t done anything like that.

In my post I said, “My little life, pedestrian as it is, suits me just fine. There are those moments, and I’ve shared a few in this blog, when the very ordinariness of my family life is extraordinary to an exponential degree. A hug from Chris. A giggle from Tommy. A knowing glance from my wife. Each one, exceptionally ordinary. Each one, exceptionally extraordinary. And absolutely priceless.”

Where I take issue with the comment is the ‘take for granted’ part. I think I conveyed that by calling out the things that mean the most to me as priceless. Not what I own, but what my family gives me.

Sure, it helps that we are economically comfortable. But I don’t take that for granted either. I’m sitting here tonight, one day removed from surgery to repair my ACL and MCL. My knee, quite frankly, hurts like hell. I won’t walk without crutches for about 4-6 weeks, and I won’t jog for four months. Yet I am grateful that I have health insurance. I’m grateful I live in a place with quality healthcare. As I limp around the house, I’m grateful I can walk to the bathroom – unlike my mother, who spent the last 25 years of her life in a wheelchair, unable to use her legs due to an accident in her own home.

I will be the first to admit I am fortunate. I’ve done nothing to deserve what I have. And I could lose it all tomorrow. As I mentioned in this post, I’ve seen a few examples of how quickly fortune can change.

No, I’m not a boat person. I’m not a ‘dirty hack with the trolley in the shady lane’ – in fact, I don’t even know what that means.

What I am is ordinary. And very grateful to be exactly that.

You know, by now, what I say.

It’s great to be The Family Man.