“I’m now living my 85th year.”
That’s how Ron put it this morning. He was in our swimming pool during lap swim, his usual lane 8.
Privilege is too artless a word to describe how lucky I feel to know Ron these past 7 ½ years I’ve lived in Portland. He is easily on my shortlist for best human I have met in my life. That’s not an official award category, but when we meet these people we would do well to keep them in our lives.
We hadn’t crossed paths in a few weeks so I went onto the deck to flag Ron down and say hello. He mentioned today is his birthday.
I asked about his celebration plans. Turns out he and his wife had done dinner out and the symphony over the weekend. He spoke about the warm welcome he gets at one of his favorite steak restaurants and how long he’s been going there.
Today, he said, was, “Phone calls and daughters coming over.”
I told him my son’s 2nd birthday is coming up later this week. The corner of Ron’s eyes crinkled as he talked about the wonder of kids that age. He smiled up as I gushed about Jacob and all his new tricks and skills.
Ron stood waist-deep in the shallow end and I sat on the pool deck in front of him.
After ten minutes, we agreed to let one another get back to our day. It’s an interesting relationship when both parties feel like they don’t want to take too much of the other’s time.
I could talk to Ron all day.
I nearly ran back to my office I was so jazzed. I said to Sarit, “I want to try to live my life so that I look at the world the way Ron does.”
Not once has he failed to have that effect on me—even following his lengthy absence from lap swim after which he returned to tell me about his heart attack and resultant bypass surgery. I was rocked with a moment of sadness at the idea I might never have seen him again. Yet, nothing in his words hinted that he wanted pity. He was simply glad he was cleared to hit the pool again, even mentioned his physician attributing his survival to his regular swimming routine.
His success and the fact he’s still alive to swim laps at 84 are no accident. Ron is accomplished. He is connected to the community. While congenial, you get the sense her would take no flak from anyone. Better yet, he probably doesn’t have to because calmness and professionalism flood off him and people can’t help but soak it in.
Ron is a present-day Jedi knight.
His handshake is always firm and generous. His eye contact doesn’t just make you feel like you matter, it makes you know it.
When I talk to him, I am energized. I feel better about myself, my work, and everything about the future. That’s no small impact. And that is every single time.
I try to think about whether I leave people better off at the end of a conversation. Sometimes yes, sometimes no. It’s not a bad measure for our days. Am I adding or subtracting?
The more you add and the more adders you surround yourself with the better.
Ron adds beyond what I can measure. May he swim smoothly through this 85th year and into the next.