For the first time in a long, long time I donned a coat, put on underwear and socks, black shoes and stuff in my long hair to slick it back so it's acceptable in public ... then I drove to a Chamber of Commerce function.
It's a gala for the fiftieth anniversary of "Leadership Savannah", the nation's oldest such program. I was in it at the half way mark. Accepted just after moving back to Savannah, nominated by Beth Daniels, I got in because two of my books had been published and they had no other alternative for the "Author" category.
Nevertheless, I loved it and became very devoted. I always made certain a Union Mission person participate in every class. So for the better part of twenty years, I had people go through the program ... except for one time when Memorial Health wouldn't nominate our friend Peter so we did and he got in. My last year at Union Mission we actually had two staff participate. And somebody told me that Francis, the new CEO, got in so I'm glad that the tradition continues.
Besides, Bill Hubbard and Trip Tollison embraced our work like they would any other successful company. Through good times and bad, they remained staunch supporters of the things we were doing. I was often seated at head tables next to Governors or the elite of "The Elect" ... Senators or Congressmen ... because of Bill and Trip. They were integral in helping us burst through many "glass ceilings."
So I owe them and I never forget my debts. Besides, I needed to go on the "I'm not dead yet" tour in Savannah.
In Monty Python's hysterical "The Search for the Holy Grail", the Plague has hit Europe. A cart is pushed through city daily. "Bring out your Dead! Bring out your Dead!" cries the carrier. So a man brings out a body slung over his shoulder and says "I got one" to which the body objects "I'm Not Dead Yet." He's told he will be soon and protesst go back and forth until the body is slapped in the head with shovel and thrown on the cart.
The truth of the matter though ... is I'm not dead yet.
The thing about leaving decades of work in the same place and in the same town is how quickly you're forgotten.
Not that this isn't a two-way street ... there are so many forgettable people I've had to work with though they are mixed with these really remarkable ones. It's been this gumbo of good and bad, blessed and wicked, kindness and some of the meanest Sons-of-Bitches to ever grace the world (Board Chair who chooses to remain anonymous ... like the tiny Wizard of Oz who hides behind curtains). Then there are graceful people like Bill and Trip.
So there's good to found in everything. I forget those who aren't worth remembering and the ones who didn't care for me anyway ... forget me. It's a question of balance.
I arrive and it's typical high class stuff at the "Savannah Yacht Club". I immediately run into my dear friend Stacy who embraces me. Then Margaret Mary who really runs the Chamber of Commerce leaves her post checking people in to hug me too. Right off the bat ... I'm not dead yet!
David Paddison ... whose Dad and I worked together years ago establishing the Chatham-Savannah Authority for the Homeless (and Bob Paddison is a legend who I will pay proper homage to one day) ... and I run into one another. A very successful in his own right, David is also a Union Mission Board member (one of the last who came in under my reign) and we greet one another in warmly suspicious way.
I work the room. Bill Hubbard gives me a bear hug in front of a hundred people and tells me how glad he is that I'm there. Joe Buck and his wife Marilyn stop what they're doing to do the same ... and I love Joe who led Leadership Savannah for all of those years and is really the one who kicked me in the ass to get my career started.
Then I see people who love me ... and people who ignore me ... and others who are shocked that I'm there at all. It's always fascinating to see's who's who. But I do ... and I'm fascinated.
But fascination quickly gets boring.
This isn't my world anymore. There are people I will be forever connected to ... and others who thought I was dead.
I'm proud of the things I did in Savannah. The City still reaches out to me. People who benefited from the work call, text, Face Book or stop by unannounced with regularity.They're not homeless anymore.
Then there are all of those I worked along side ... politicians who only care about who can help them ... Non-Profit leaders who are mostly non ... sprinkled with a few who are ... newcomers to the City who work the room really hard to establish themselves ... and the Established who stand or sit at tables waiting for the rest of us to pay homage to them.
The new class is acknowledged. I'm in a side room talking to Peter for the first time in a year. We struggle to find the commonality we used to share.
Then I'm done.
"Beam me up Scotty," I say out loud.
As I make my way out, Trip grabs me. "Hey Rev," he says warmly and we talk Georgia football. He can't go to the game this weekend so he gives me his tickets.
Then Margaret Mary sees that I'm leaving so she leaves being in charge of everything to give me another hug.
Driving home through the marsh on the Tybee road in the darkness of the night ... I see Orion's bow ... my beautiful daughter Chelsea when she was a little girl once pointed at it and exclaimed ... "Look Daddy! It's our Christmas Tree!" because if you look at it as little girls do ... it's a Christmas Tree as Christmas is arriving.
At the time I lived alone with her sister Kristen. Chelsea was with us every other night. We lived with Cheryl and Jodee cause we had no other place to live.
Driving home, I stare at Chelsea's Christmas tree in the sky. I text to tell her. She's in class finishing up her degree at the University of Georgia. She immediately texts me back to say ... the most beautiful of words ... "It's our time of year. I can't wait to get out of class and look up in the sky to see."
I cry when I read this.
Then I look up again at the Christmas Tree in the sky.
What I see under it ... is me.
I'm not dead yet ... just kicking off the wrappings of those who believe I am.
