This is the fifth anniversary of my retirement party, and I have just come across the letter my wife read on that occasion. I’d like to share it with you:
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I know something about James that you don’t know. To explain, I’m going to quote from one of G.K. Chesterton’s Father Brown stories. These are detective stories about an unassuming priest who solves mysteries both by observation and by trying to think like the culprit. In this particular story Jameson is the “bad guy.”
“‘Jameson!’ exclaimed Boyle incredulously. ‘He was such a dull old stick that I never noticed him.’
“Beware of the man you forget. He is the one man who has you entirely at a disadvantage… This man could listen, when you had forgotten he was there, and gather exactly the right materials for his romance, and know exactly the right note to strike to lead you all astray.”
Why do I tell you this? Because James has always wanted be a spy. And this quote reminds me of what James has called himself for our entire marriage: a stick in the mud.
As far as I am concerned, he may well have been a spy all these 30-plus years because he has led a secret life (at least to me) at work every day.
The reason I mention this Mysterious Job is to tell you about Another Job he has also had. This Other Job has consumed him from the moment he walked through the door at 6:00 p.m. until he fell exhausted into bed.
For 13 years he went with Barrett and me every night to see Jenny at the Conway Human Development Center. That may not seem like much, but when I go somewhere every single night, I am tired. Plus, he had Barrett, who thought his daddy was his very best friend in all the world.
So it’s this job I want to describe… the job of being Barrett’s best friend.
From the beginning Barrett adored James. He was The Man in his life. As a one-year-old he literally bawled every single morning when his daddy left for work. Note that Barrett was awake; Daddy never slipped out.
One morning he squalled so furiously that I took him to the large, round clock in the kitchen and explained, “See this clock? When this hand moves all the way around to this number six, Daddy will come home. I promise.” And he always came.
From ages two to four Barrett still stood at the front door and cried. Not because he thought Daddy wasn’t coming home, but because he simply didn’t want him to leave.
When Barrett was eight years old, I gave him an assignment to write a letter to anyone he chose. Well, James ended up with that letter, and I had forgotten about it until he handed it to me last week as he was going through his old papers. You’ll know why he saved it when I read it.
Here’s what it says: “Dear Dad. Just before you come home at night, I feel happy. I know we will always have a good time together. I love you. Your son, Barrett.”
James has now retired from his full-time job here. Because I live with him, I know he was fully devoted to doing his very best for this company.
You won’t be surprised, though, when I tell you that his heart was really with that Other Job, that Night Time Job of caring for his children. But Jenny is now with Jesus, and Barrett has grown up and moved out. This is normal, but still very difficult. So, sad to say, that Other Job of being a full-time dad is over.
Since James is now free from 6:00 p.m. until bedtime, maybe he’ll actually become a spy.
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Mary’s death also brings my full-time job as a husband to a conclusion as well. So I give you fair warning: beware of such a dull old stick that you may never notice him. I might really be a spy… at least from 6:00 p.m. until bedtime.
Copyright 2007 James McAlister
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