I somehow knew I was different as a young boy when I preferred hiking alone in the nearby woods to playing baseball with the guys. I realized that maybe the term ‘introvert’ fit me when I preferred a night with a good book over a Saturday night socializing with the gang at the local hangout. Yeah, didn’t take much introspection to know that I was following a different drummer in life.
And they, the ‘normal’ people in my life, aside from calling me a wallflower, dull, and uninteresting allowed me to be who I was. My friend’s mother said that I had no personality. In today’s young culture I would have been called a nerd. But I prospered as an introvert. I developed inner strengths, deep personal understanding and a devotion to the quiet things of my world. I learned to study people and tune in to their inner workings. I became the observer at sock hops and in the classroom. I learned first-hand about prejudice and intolerance. Thanks to high school bullies, I knew early in life that some of us were destined to have a difficult row to hoe. It made me stronger and prepared me for the heartaches of being different.
Gosh, the years have passed quickly. And still today, some folks have a need to label who I am. Most often I can take it with a grain of salt. I have learned over my many years to fight back as necessary. That has earned me another label, irascible. Gabby prefers ornery, unpredictable or bull-headed. It confirms his standing with the willy-nilly crowd. And it’s important. If a man fits in with the crowd around him, becomes one of the good ole boys, he hasn’t fully appreciated the nature of autonomy and independence. If he doesn’t learn to assert his right to say yay or nay to the demands put upon him, he will lose the ability to choose what is best for himself. He gives control of his happiness to another person. Perhaps a spouse, a friend, a family member will presume to know what’s right for him.
Once again, I can hear some of you asking, “Gabby, what’s your point?”
Hear me and hear me well. If I choose to embrace a few unhealthy habits that could hasten my earthly demise, then so be it. That is my choice. If I drive too fast or eat too much ice cream, then I will probably die knowing that I have also lived.
If I advocate for the marginalized, the oppressed, the homeless and the other brothers Jesus mentioned in Matthew 25 and when I label myself a Matthew 25 Christian, then I have followed my calling by the entity I label as Higher Power. So there, my judgmental brothers and sisters is a label that I am proud of. Use it!
A few years back y’all didn’t approve of my friendship with a homeless, alcoholic man. I helped him with shelter, food and cash and you chose to see it in vile, ungodly behavior. Well, guess what, sister? That man is sober, living in another state, creating a new life for himself.
Yeah, call me angry if it makes you feel any better, but you can take your smirks and condescension and stuff it in your Bibles or whatever you are reading to justify your intolerance.
As for me, I will rely on the old, reliable, irascible Gabby to find my joy and peace. Brother Gabby is a beacon in a dark sea.
And Gabby says, “Amen, brother.”
GABBY GRAYWHISKERS 