When Actions Speak Louder Than Words ...

… I’ve typically tended to write. Because I’m much better with words than anything else, and because I’m a wimp. I’m not one to stick my neck out, put myself out there, draw attention, take charge, command the spotlight. You name the extrovert quality, I don’t exhibit it. You name the action, I’ve got words to substitute. And until 2020, I’ve been pretty okay with that, if not downright comfortable.

The truth is, I’ve always thought Isn’t it enough to just be a good person? Isn’t that what everyone should strive to be? I had the blessing of spending most of my life witnessing what that looked like on a daily basis, because my dad was good to his core. He could lift someone’s spirits with just an expression or exchange. There was a lot more to his character than words and gestures, of course. But for some reason, I’ve been as averse to actively considering his compassionate actions as I have to taking my own. Which is some seriously wimpy shit.

It took the killing of George Floyd—and the resulting, rightful, righteous demand for justice and equality and respect and fundamental change—for me to acknowledge my character flaw, apparently. To see it as in a mirror. To see it expressed in my passive silence, which might as well be lazy complicity.

Well, my eyes are open. I’m listening, too. Reading. Learning. Aiming to not just be good, but to do good.

I’m never going to lead a public charge or cultivate any platform, and I’m fine with that. I’m still going to use words as my primary tool, too. But I vow that they will no longer be my only tool.

“A life is not important except in the impact it has on other lives.” – Jackie Robinson