The Most Influential Person In My Life

My sister recently asked me to write something about how I’ve managed to have what she sees as an interesting and successful life. I gave it some thought and found the answer in a paper I wrote almost 30 years ago for an English class I took in an adult education setting. I have to say that by no means do I see myself through my sister’s eyes. I see myself most often as rather flaky because I am a dabbler. I worked as a secretary for nearly my whole adult life, but not at the same place. I am easily bored and often changed jobs to get a new perspective. I enjoy talking with interesting people about varied subjects. I became acquainted once with a lady who owned our town’s only radio station and ended up working for her part-time as a newscaster and recording commercials. I rubbed shoulders with some amazing journalists representing some of the bigger establishments at various events I attended. I could go on and list other examples of my eclectic life, but the point my sister wanted me to make is how I’ve managed to collect such a wide variety of experiences, aside from the fact that I’m old and naturally have collected experiences. The paper I referred to above was in answer to an assignment to write about the most influential person in my life. I’ve done some editing of that paper, but the message has not changed. I entitled my paper, “First Sight,” and think it answers my sister’s question quite nicely.

At the tender age of 14, I sat on a grassy incline in front of the local junior high school during lunch hour with a girlfriend. It was a late spring day when the sun’s rays feel especially good, and the anticipated promise of summer vacation is on the horizon. Somewhere amongst girlhood chatter, the revving up sound of a motorcycle whizzed into my peripheral vision, where I sighted a full-helmeted boy wearing a black leather jacket riding the noisy machine. He waved, and my friend waved back.

“Who’s that,” I asked?

“Oh, that’s Norma’s hoody uncle,” she answered.

I didn’t think much about him but was a little surprised to think of my shy friend, Norma, having a hoodlum uncle.

A couple of years later, Norma and I were talking, and she mentioned her uncle having broken up with his girlfriend. I listened with detached interest, not connecting the motorcycle sighting two years prior. The first thing I thought was, why is she so upset about her uncle who must be pretty old, breaking up with a girlfriend? She rambled on about his so-called tragedy and asked me, “Would you like to meet my uncle?”

I couldn’t believe she would think I’d be interested in meeting some old guy. Also, she knew how protective were my parents. How did she figure they would ever allow me to date her aging relative.

“How old is your uncle?” I asked incredulously after digesting her question.

“He’s barely 19,” she answered, realizing I had a different picture in my head.

“No,” I responded.

She made another attempt to assure me of his youth, but I still maintained a lack of interest. I thought that was the end of it.

A couple of weeks later, I was home with my sisters when I heard a car pull into our graveled driveway. We lived in a small farming community about 15 miles from my teenage view of civilization, and I assumed it to be our parents returning from a trip to town. I didn’t expect visitors, so when I heard one of my sisters yell out that Norma was at the door, I emerged from my room happy for the diversion. Upon seeing her, she blurted, “Come on out, I want you to meet someone.”

Everything clicked into place, and I pleaded with Norma to make my apologies and forget her attempt to play Cupid. She assured me her uncle was a nice person and not a delinquent. I could see she was not going to give up, and that, combined with my curiosity, caused me to meet her hoody uncle. I guess the rest belongs to history, but this is the part where I become analytical.

I was only 16 when I met that young man, and in my days’ girls graduated from high school, got married and started a family. If they went to college, they were not there for a diploma, at least not for themselves. They were there to meet “Mr. Right” and then help him get his diploma so he could properly care for the family they would start producing immediately. I grant it was a time when things started to change. I know girls from my graduating high school class who became well educated, contributing members of our world on their own merits. I was not one of them. In seeing things from the valuable vantage point called retrospect, I should have gone to college, but for whatever reason, it never seemed an option for me. My natural inclination bent to getting married and raising a family sooner rather than later. Honestly, I never put a lot of thought into getting married. It just seemed the thing to do. It was not the ideal way to start a marriage, but I feel lucky to marry the man I did, because like I said, I didn’t think about it very much.

My husband is not the kind of man who would stifle my ambitions or thwart my dreams. He has always encouraged me to do more and not be satisfied with the norm. He has never had so much ego that he couldn’t compliment my endeavors at self-improvement. I love my eternal companion. He is probably not the most handsome of men, and his physique is not the kind women drool over. He’s not wealthy, but he doesn’t need to put anyone down to build himself up. He gives a lot to our relationship, and maybe he realized a long time ago that the little girl he married had a lot of needs, and the best way to keep our marriage healthy was to encourage her to make the most of herself. He has taught me to believe in myself, and it’s funny, but in the whole process of giving, he has taught me to give back to him. It just seems the natural thing to do. He is always willing to allow me the freedom to meet and exceed my goals. In turn, I want him to realize his potential.

I won’t say we have the perfect marriage and the ideal family. We have both grown up a lot in the 56 years of our union, but we’ve seen the importance of adjusting to one another’s changes, and we have managed to raise some good kids.

If there is one thing I would hope to pass on to my children, it is, “Don’t be afraid to allow someone you love to change and never stifle anyone’s curiosity.” Their father is a wonderful example of that kind of “real love” and I think I’m fortunate to be married to him.

My husband, without a doubt, has been the most influential person in my life and by being so, has exposed me to others along the way who have had a hand in directing me onto a path of self-acceptance, confidence and fulfillment.