TUPATALK: What I would wish

If I had my choice of any gift to bestow tis Christmas it would be a gift of reclamation of time for others — to be able to reverse a moment of heartache so that it never happened.

I wish I could bring back a father to his grieving children, a child to its mourning parents, a loved companion back to the arms of their lonely mate.

I wish I could rewrite a moment of great financial hardship, an agonizing sports loss, a doctor’s daunting diagnosis, a dissolving family, the death or detour of a fervent dream or any dreary journey through a personal valley of despair.

Life is not a game — at least not as we understand games. In life there are no discernible fair rules, few level playing fields, no objective referees, no instant booth reviews and change of rulings and no visible scoreboards to record our progress.

Life has only two basic guidelines — 1) to survive and, 2) to live the best we can according to our circumstances.

I don’t have the power to offer the gift of reclaiming a moment in the past.

If I did, I would have altered he fate of Germany so that Hitler never would have come to power. I would have grounded all jet travel in the nation on 9-11. I would have tried to keep Roberto Clemente from flying out of South Florida on New Year’s Eve 1972. I would have tried to steer Roy Campanella’s car on a dry part of the road in order to avoid the tragic accident that put him in a wheelchair the rest of his life.

I would have somehow kept so many choice young people in this community, and others in which I have lived, from getting in a vehicle for what would be their last day. I would have tried to keep a family together, tried to stop someone from taking that first fateful drink of alcohol and tried to stop someone from ingesting a fatal or coma-inducing dose of drugs.

During my time in the Marine Corps, a young man in my shop electrocuted himself accidentally during a stupid hands-on training session with a tech rep. Oh, how I wish I could change just 30 seconds of that day that valiant young warrior.

I would change the day I unintentionally broke my sister’s thumb when we were kids or broke our front window with a ball when mom couldn’t even afford to pay the gas bill.

But, I remain powerless to change even a wink of the past. We all are.

So, what gifts would I give, if I could?

One of them might be perspective.

I heard a story about a teenager who went out to golf for the first time. On the first tee, he topped the ball and it traveled a few yards.

“There goes my par,” he reportedly said..

In another example, after he became paralyzed due to a car wreck, baseball player Roy Campanella — the second player of black heritage to be enshrined in the Hall of Fame after Jackie Robinson — lived the final 35 years of his life in a wheelchair.

According to one source, Campanella longed to always do something better than anyone else.

After his accident, “I thought, you know, may I can be the best quadriplegic on a respirator that ever lived. And wouldn’t you know it, Christopher Reeve goes out and breaks his neck and I’m in competition with Superman.” (“It’s Good to be Alive,” Jack Rushton University of Nebraska.)

I like the thought of Campanella awakening from death on some other realm and standing tall and straight.

Would one of my gifts be hope — that departed loved ones wait for our arrival in a sphere where handicaps, pain, hunger, crime, brutality and injustice cease to exist. Such hope could help us push through the years with a positive attitude.

Few of us know the pain someone else has endured. I think of something my mom told us: If there were one place where everyone could dump their problems and select someone else’s that we’d keep ours and go home with a grateful attitude we don’t have to deal with what other people do.

If I another gift I would try to impart it would be gratitude. Gratitude for the time spent with a loved one who is gone. Gratitude for the years, the memories, the laughs, the soul-sharing and the love.

I’ve always felt an affinity to the Neil Diamond song, “Forever in Blue Jeans.” I recall around the time this song came out visiting a newlywed couple in my church. They lived in a little, cramped apartment and I wondered what the years would bring for them. That was more than 40 years ago; I’ve always hoped they kept their love alive.

Part of Diamond’s song is: “…long as I can have you here with me, I’d much rather be forever in blue jeans. … We’d do okay forever in blue jeans, babe.” (Neil Diamond/Richard Winchell Bennett.)

Life has no guarantees — either to its quality or its length.

Plans and dreams can crumble with a stroke of fate’s paint brush.

But, life goes on for the living. There can be new horizons of fulfillment and usefulness even though the bitter moment leaves a tender spot in the heart.

Roberto Clemente said; “Any time you have an opportunity to make a difference in this world and you don’t, then you are wasting your time on Earth.” (Baseball Almanac)

I know of men in this town who suffered the loss of a child at a much too young age and went on as coaches or volunteers to bless the lives of hundreds of other youth.

Goodness can soften grief, and gratitude can lighten the loneliness. Memories can keep loved ones alive in our hearts.

Perhaps the best give one could try to give, especially at this time of the year, is inner peace that helps heal the wounded heart and makes the journey worthwhile.

This article originally appeared on Bartlesville Examiner-Enterprise: TupaTalk column thoughts