Today’s Monday Zoom call is with the founder of Joppa, a nonprofit dedicated to assisting our unhoused neighbors in Des Moines. Please join Joe Stevens at noon central time to learn about this growing issue. We begin our call at noon central time. Subscribers are welcome to join the live discussion, which will then be uploaded into podcast format.
Witness of our lives…
The idea of having a witness to our lives is a concept that was succinctly articulated n the film Shall We Dance. In one scene, Susan Sarandon’s character explains that a long-term relationship—like a marriage—provides us with someone who sees us through all of life - the tedious, and glorious minutes that happen every day.
It is this sharing of experiences that gives them greater meaning.
When we first watched the movie, Richard and I gave each other a knowing look as Sarandon delivered the dialogue.
A life witness doesn’t have to say much.
Sometimes, volumes are spoken in a glance across the room, when a painful reminder surfaces because of something said in a casual conversation by an unwitting acquaintance.
Without these moments of shared understanding, our lives risk becoming mere monologues.
When our primary witness is gone, there is a void. In this absence we may fantasize that we have ethereal cheer leaders, looking down on us, watching our every move, and look for earthly signs of their presence through inexplicable coincidences.
This sentiment was on my mind when I attended a memorial service for a man who I did not know well, but who was close to some with whom I have a deep and long history.
A childhood friend of the deceased told stories about him that evoked laughter and gave the audience more context to a life cut short. Music selections through the memorial gave a hint to the loss the man’s grieving partner was feeling, and as music can often do, evoked memories of our own buried grief.
The final tribute, delivered by
, let us all in on an aspect of Rob Dillard, the man we were there to mourn, that deepened the pain of his loss. It made me wish I’d come to know him better.When Romen’s dad, Rob Borsellino, died in 2006. it was Rob Dillard who showed up to watch the teenager’s high school wrestling matches, graduation, and celebrate holidays in a role where the boy’s father would have otherwise played center stage. One Rob became a witness to the life of the son of another Rob. And by showing up, his life mattered to the point Romen would get on a plane and fly to Des Moines from LAX to eulogize the guy who showed up for him.
We tend to know people in limited bubbles.
Classmates, colleagues, new friends, siblings, parents, uncles, aunts, nephews, nieces, bosses, columnists, employees, public figures, in-laws, and just plain folks we will never meet; they all have facets to their lives that we will never know.
During the memorial for Richard’s sister and brother, I witnessed an outpouring of people from Washington and Ottumwa, Iowa—pockets of their lives I had not often encountered. In these gatherings, I came to understand more deeply what they meant to others, beyond the small bubble in which I had known them.
Holidays and funerals have a way of conjuring up thoughts of mortality, love, and loss, and have preoccupied me since Rob Dillard’s memorial.
Everywhere I look there are people I know superficially, and wonder if I’ll get to know other aspects of their lives beyond the ‘FakeBook’ social media posts where all we see are photos of trips, happy children, food, scenery, and accomplishments.
Another high school classmate died this month. We only stayed in touch through infrequent Facebook posts. I have no idea how he lived his life, and felt a twinge of sadness that I never will.
I grew up in Des Moines, but left Iowa, and most of my established relationships when I moved out of state from 2000 to 2021. During that time, I was unplugged from the day to day lives of friends with whom I am now reconnecting. I missed a lot, which is now evident.
I did, however, make other connections and collected enduring friendships with folks in Annapolis, Washington, D.C., Chicago, and Florida.
But staying in touch takes effort. Real-time conversations, where fears and anxieties are reported, often go unshared. So, we drift apart because it is authentic conversation that binds us.
This isn’t a statement of regret but an acknowledgment that life-witnessing takes many forms. Ultimately, the summation of a life is told by those who witness it. Their accounts—not our resumes—shape a legacy.
Thanks for being a part of this journey.
Have you thought about telling your story?
The Okoboji Writers’ and Songwriters’ Retreat can help.
Or, if you need an idea for an over-the-top holiday gift, think about giving someone an enrollment in the Okoboji Writers’ and Songwriters’ Retreat.
There are two Early Bird discount phases. The first, and biggest discount is for those who enroll by January 15, 2025 ($695.) The next is valid from January 15 to July 15 ($795). After that the enrollment fee is $895. We have sold out each year, so don’t miss out. Learn more:
Did you see yesterdays Roundup of Iowa Writers’ Collaborative columns?
Prize-winning writers from around our Midwest region comment about immigration, the holidays, local food, the TV series “Yellowstone,” plus so much more. You will learn from these fine folks and be the better informed formed for it. Today’s Monday Zoom call is with the founder of Joppa, a nonprofit dedicated to assisting our unhoused neighbors in Des Moines. Please join Joe Stevens at noon Central Time to learn about this growing issue. We begin our call at noon Central Time. Subscribers are welcome to join the live discussion, which will then be uploaded into podcast format.
Many lessons from Julie today. Two come to mind before dawn First, communication is a two-way dynamic. It does take time and effort to make and maintain relationships. However, there are old shoe people in our lives. We can be comfortable, caring and communicative even if our paths do not cross often Another lesson is from a song I learned as a Brownie, "Make new friends, but keep the old, one is silver abs the other gold."
Loved this column. So touching and relevant. Thank you!