During the World Race, Spicy Mustard has had the opportunity to go to nursing homes. I’ve avoided these encounters like the plague. I’ve either been sick enough to justify not going, or had other things that could be done during those days that permitted me to miss. I didn’t really know the reason why I didn’t want to go, other then I really did not like them.
I went today. Kelly went to Managua to check on her Mac computer, and the team needed a translator.
About halfway through the day, I realized why I had avoided them.
My grandfather, Edward Dale, passed away due to Alzheimer's disease. He spent the last years of his life in a nursing home, and I’m not sure I ever received healing from it. I hated going to the nursing home, as terrible as that sounds, but I hated seeing a man I respected and had so many great memories of in that condition.
He was a man full of life. He loved sitting in his easy chair watching the Braves, he was a scientist for the CDC (Center for Disease Control in Atlanta), he was a recipient of the Purple Heart, a renown violinist for the Dekalb Symphony Orchestra and most importantly, a good father to his son and daughter and a good husband.
No one likes to see a family member as a shade of himself, and I hated that my great memories of him were being replaced by the man he was in the nursing home. I believe Alzheimer’s to be one of the cruelest diseases. Not only does it strip someone of their vitality, but of many of the things that make them who they are.
Today at the nursing home, I met a Nicaraguan man whose story shared uncanny resemblances to Edward Dale’s (Papa’s). He was a composer and poet, and was proud enough of each that he showed us poems in both English and Spanish. He had an exceptional memory, citing dates where he met important figures, or went to places around the world. He was a world traveler, spending 14 years traveling around Europe and the world. He studied labor law in Spain, and knew many of the places I was familiar with, like Las Ramblas and Sagrada Familia.
Through his incredible story, it began to feel as if I was talking to a man similar to my memories of my grandfather. While their lives were different, they shared a clear intelligence, and I definitely experienced a healing of sorts. It was as if I was clearing the bad memories of nursing homes, and I was sharing one last day with Papa; making up for lost time.
It is my belief that the World Race is all about gaining perspective; the perspective that while the troubles and hardship in our lives are valuable, they are incomparable to the hurts of the world.
So many Americans, especially, are blinded by the belief that their problems are the most valuable, or more important than any others. Worse, they’re often exaggerated beyond a shade of what they truly are. It’s this change in perspective that I’m beginning to understand. I’m constantly encountering the thought, “Why am I worrying about this, it doesn’t matter in the long run.”
I’m grateful for this change in perspective. It’s probably one of the greatest lessons I’ll learn through the World Race, but I know it is only one of many lessons.
Also, as a final note, Brandon Boyd and Brenda Basham are in the danger zone in regards to their funding and deadlines. They each need roughly $2,000 before early January. I know I have an incredible support system, and while you have done so much for me, it would honor me if you would consider supporting them, even in a small ammount. Both are meant to be on this trip for different reasons, of that I have no doubt. Thank you for your continued generosity, it means the world to me.
BrandonBoyd.theworldrace.org
BrendaBasham.theworldrace.org
