A conversation

So we have some very cool custodians at the school where I work. One of them, Lisa*, is a native Spanish speaker, with whom I usually converse after school for a while. Another, Tony*, is bilingual (English & Spanish), and we usually talk in English.

Sometimes, I talk to Tony and I think I know what God might be like. (I'm on the fence about the whole God thing at this point, but that's immaterial.) Today at 5:30pm, I was getting ready to make some copies and go home. I was tired, having had a very mediocre Monday in the classroom, but I'm usually happy to talk to Tony. He's 65, usually in good spirits, friendly, polite, and helpful.

...and his daughter has cancer. She's in the hospital for weeks at a time (presently, she's in for a month). To help offset medical costs, Tony works two full-time jobs: one from midnight to about 8am, and the other as our evening custodian (3-11pm). Every day when I greet him, though, he's always cheerful and grateful for what he has. It seems sincere, too; at times he'll discuss the human condition and how people are so into their own little worlds that they forget about everything else. ("We've all been there," he'll say with a sad smile. "I know that.")

So what makes people like Tony so... able to deal with things? How come he can (seemingly) handle the cancer of his daughter, yet others whine about such minor things in their lives? How is it that Tony works two full-time jobs, and I have yet to hear him complain? How is he still grateful, optimistic, and pleasant when he gets 5 hours of sleep a night and spends his waking hours at work or in the hospital?

Here's a (paraphrased) typical part the conversation we had today:

Me: Hey, Tony! How are you?
Tony: Oh, I'm good, I'm good. How about you? You ever find a boyfriend? (Note: This is not said in a creepy way, but more of like a dad checking up on his little girl.)
Me: Yeah, actually.
Tony: Oh, wonderful! He treats you good, right?
Me: Of course!
Tony: Good, because you deserve it.
Me: Thank you! How's your wife doing?
Tony: My wife is good, it's my daughter that's not doing so well.
Me: Yeah, how is she?
Tony: She's going through another round of chemo, so she'll be in the hospital for the next month...

(and he goes into detail here)

Tony: But you know what? We do the best we can. Sometimes I don't know what to do, and I wish my father were here to talk to. I want to do that for my children. I want to always be there for them, no matter what. I treat them all the same, and I want them all to be able to talk to me. I want them to treat their kids the way I treat them.
Me: That's wonderful. I'm glad to hear it.
Tony: You know, our time here is a gift. And I do what I can with it. Sometimes, people don't give very much. You say, "Good morning," and they don't say anything. But it's not me. I do what I can. They're in their own little world, but sometimes we all are. That's OK, that's just where they are. I don't take it personal. I just know we all do what we can. You're never going to please everyone, you know? If you try to, you're wasting your time. So make the best of it. Don't let other people get you down.

...

etc.

These are the types of conversations we usually has. He's talked to me about how to stay (relatively happily) married for 40 years... how to deal with a sick child... how fleeting time is... And I'm happy to see him so happy.

Now, to bed so I can make tomorrow a good day. Cheers.





*Names changed to protect anonymity.