I was taught that there is “power in the pen,” so I like to write letters occasionally and hope that I will do so as long as I’ve got hands. My only frequent pen pal is my sister, although I do fire off letters to former teachers and old friends from time to time.
One thing I like doing is reaching out to someone from my past via pen and paper, if only for the reason that their influence in my life popped into my head that particular day.
I had one of those moments last September when I introduced myself to the students at school for the first time. I decided to use the Rotary Club Hello, which is silly and obnoxious but is a great way to keep everyone attentive through a long string of self-introductions.
It’s very easy - simply wait until the person says his or her name, and then say, “HIIII, BOB!!!” very loudly and deliberately and clap your hands once.
It sounds stupid and it is, but when everyone does it together, it’s a whole lot of fun and it’s difficult to avoid getting the giggles.
The Rotary Club Hello works best when there is one new person who needs to introduce himself to the rest of the group. He expects to have to say his name, where he’s from, his job - the usual stuff. If everyone else is in on the gag, the newbie is starting to say the name of his town when-
“HIIIII, JOE!!!” CLAP
Startling and relaxing at the same time, a great ice-breaker. I highly recommend the Rotary Club Hello and use it often.
The high school seniors enjoyed it and I thought about the man who taught it to me in my freshman year at UC Santa Barbara. Lyle Hillegas was the head advisor of a college church group that I was a part of in that first year.
A bear of a man with a huge, booming baritone voice, glasses with round lenses, and a smart, well-kept mustache, Lyle was quite adept at talking about God and making him sound approachable, real, and modern.
With a smile the width of a watermelon and bright, bold single-colored sweaters, he walked us through the Bible a verse at a time, stopping to tell one of a myriad of personal stories and offering a wealth of insight while using words like MAGNIFICENT!, MARVELOUS!, and BRILLIANT!
When I began to doubt that I had a truly personal relationship God, Lyle was the one person in the group that acknowledged my doubt as real and was willing to talk about it. I drifted from the group, as I couldn’t connect with any of my peers, but I continued to meet with Lyle and listen to what he had to say about God.
One summer, I wasn’t able to keep my key to the piano practice rooms on campus and didn’t have access to a piano or a keyboard. The band I was in, Los Borrachos, had a full schedule of gigs starting in September, and I wasn’t going to be able to play until school started again.
Lyle and his wife opened up their house to me, inviting me to come over and play even when they weren’t home. I rode the bus to their beautiful English house (complete with a thatched roof) on State Street several times that summer, and they dutifully put up with hearing the same songs over and over, or with hearing news ones with mistakes and tinkering.
I didn’t keep in touch with him very much at the end of college, and I left without saying a real goodbye to him. I didn’t contact him once in the ensuing years and only thought about him when I was between pianos or used that Rotary Club Hello.
He was a perfect candidate for a letter from out of the blue! I vowed to write to him about the smashing success of the Hello on the tech school kids, and though there was time, I never set it aside.
Another former teacher popped into my head in mid-July, and the dusty old memo to write to Lyle remained in my head. I thought I would do it in Sapporo, as I would be there for four days, but I spent all of my time writing reports and watching baseball and let the task slip away.
Finally, I sat down last week and wrote letters to Lyle and the former teacher. Lyle’s letter was difficult. I really wanted to keep it to one page, but I wanted to hit several points and close with a bang. That last line was difficult; I didn’t know what to say to a guy who has it all including a fantastic personal relationship with God that he can’t hide from anybody.
I rewrote the letter three times before it was perfect.
I never knew exactly how old Lyle was, but he was an older gentleman when I met him, and it occurred to me that I should probably check to make sure he was still around. I was shocked to find that he was not.
The pain I felt surprised me; I hadn’t tried to contact this man in five years, but learning of his death felt so fresh and close. I became short of breath and shed some tears right there in the teacher’s staff room in front of my computer.
I’ve drifted away from many people in my life, and some of them have died, and I’ve been sad when I heard the news. Yet, since we weren’t close it wasn’t very painful for me; in a messed-up way, it was like they were already gone and I had already dealt with the loss.
(This is a haunting feeling that is at least partly responsible for my decision to attempt to reach out to those I treasure with this website. I want for my loved ones and me to be alive in each other’s lives.)
For some reason, Lyle wasn’t one of those people. I expected him to be there and be the same, steadfast man that I met back in college. I expected to have a relieved chuckle over having to check the obituaries to see if the recipient of my letter would be able to open his mailbox.
Almost immediately, I was aware of the foolishness of my quest for the perfect letter. Not that writing it once would have gotten it there any faster, but that I had agonized over such a futile exercise. If there was one person who could appreciate the innate imperfection of humans, it was Lyle. He would not have cared if there was white out all over the page before him.
I read the words in the linked article above and thought about Lyle as a fellow child of God for the first time. He, too, worked on things that were hilariously imperfect in God’s eyes, yet were pleasing and full of utility. Go back and read the part where Niggle spreads his arms and says, “It’s a gift!” I can see Lyle Hillegas in that story.
Things have been changing ever since I stopped saying “pencils are for people who make mistakes.” Through baseball, poker, and life and my own mistakes, I have learned more about the relationship between effort and results and have slowly eased away from being a perfectionist, though I still slip and fall often.
There are far more important things than attempting to be perfect. Writing letters to our loved ones while they are still around to read them is one of those things:
I sincerely hope that you are well and not in want or need, and that Melissa and the boys are smiling there with you. Thank you for the influence you have had on my life.
Bob Sanchez
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