‘What’s the worth of one warm smile? Go and ask the dead man’

By David McElroy · October 23, 2011

There’s nothing like thinking about death to focus your mind on how you really feel about life. I’ve been thinking about death a lot recently — for various reasons — and it’s left me loving life even more.

A couple of people have recently talked to me about wanting to die. That hits me hard, because I see both of them as having the capacity to have long and fulfilling lives ahead of them and because it’s so different from how I feel about life.

At the risk of sounding obvious, the specifics of life can be terribly difficult. I’m certainly not where I want to be. I don’t have the love or money or position or achievements that I’d like to have. I frequently don’t know how to get from where I am now to where I’d like to be — how to bring the vivid picture in my mind into being. But I’ve never lost hope. When Death comes for me, he’ll have to carry me kicking and screaming if he wants to take me.

Another reason I’ve had death on my mind this week is because of the death of a baby in a family on my street a week ago. The little boy was born six or eight weeks ago with serious problems. They were problems that could be fixed with surgery, but he had to get stronger to survive the surgery. He never got strong enough, so he died. His parents never got to hold him until the last moments when the life was slipping away from his tiny body.

As I thought about these things again Saturday — the difference between people who see life as something to toss away and others who are devastated by the loss of life — I stopped at a small country cemetery not terribly far from here to think about it quietly. That’s the entrance to the cemetery looking back at the road. As I walked around, I couldn’t help but look at the tombstones and wonder about the stories of the people buried there. What were their lives like? Were they happy? Did they love other people? Did they do things with their lives that they were proud of? And did they love their lives as much as I love mine?

I have no way of knowing. I can only answer through the lens of my own feelings and thoughts since I’ll never know their stories or their feelings. I can imagine, though.

I saw adjacent headstones for two teen-agers who died on the same day in 1973. I assume it was a car accident or a house fire or something unexpected. Sixteen-year-old Jerry and his brother thought they had long lives ahead of them, but they were cut short on May 25, 1973 for reasons I’ll never know. What would they have done differently in the days leading up to that day if they had known they were about to die? What would they appreciate that actually took for granted?

I was reminded of the words to an obscure 1987 rock song called “Go Ask the Dead Man.” (The album from Mark Heard was released using the pseudonym Ideola.) It’s all about understanding the value of life by looking at the mundane things a dead man can no longer experience:

What’s the worth of one warm smile?
Go and ask the dead man
How bright the light in loved ones’ eyes?
Go ask the dead man
Where’s the charm in cloudy skies?
Go and ask the dead man
Oh — go ask the dead man

Who has eyes for an evening sun?
Go and ask the dead man
The smell of earth, the sound of storms?
Go ask the dead man
How intense is the lightest touch?
Go and ask the dead man
Oh — go ask the dead man

They say dead men tell no tales
But if you want to hear your own heart beating
Listen well, listen well
Go ask the dead man
Go ask the dead man

How potent is the joy of fools?
Go and ask the dead man
What price these diplomatic duels?
Go ask the dead man
What sorrow in the rape of rules?
Go and ask the dead man
Oh — go ask the dead man

I love life. I’m not ready to join those who’ve died. I’m grateful that I didn’t die at 16. I’m grateful that I didn’t die at 29. When I was younger, I believed — as most of us do — that the life that stretched ahead of me was almost endless. I realize now that it’s not. It makes me live each day differently than I did at the time.

I believe that when I die, my soul will move on to a better place. But I also believe that the God who created me placed me here for reasons. It’s up to me to find those reasons and make my life worthwhile. I want to experience love again. I want to experience having my own children. I want to experience the joy of knowing that I’ve achieved the purposes for which I was put here.

Part of that, though, isn’t about the so-called big things. For me, it’s about happy dogs and purring cats. It’s about noticing clouds and rainbows, such as the one I saw in this colorful sky in June. It’s about laughing and connecting with people you love. It’s about appreciating warm smiles, the evening sun and distant storms. Most of all, it’s about appreciating the light in loved ones’ eyes.

I want to live and appreciate the beauty and tactile wonder and emotional depths of the world around me. I look forward to experiencing the next life, but I’m going to appreciate everything I can about this one. It’s a precious gift God’s given to me. I’m going to hold onto it for as long as I can force breath into my body.

No matter what your circumstances are, life can be good. It’s worth living — and it’s worth living with an open heart and with open eyes.

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On a live awards show Sunday night, one man made a joke about a female celebrity. The husband of the celebrity was offended and hit the man who made the joke. Or maybe it was staged for entertainment. Who knows? Who cares? Social media is full of discussion — and even arguments — about this idiocy today. This baffles me. Let’s assume for a moment that the event happened as reported. People have been having such idiotic fights ever since there have been humans. Half the bars in the world see such brief dustups regularly. It simply doesn’t matter. The fact that so many people believe they need to talk about this — or even need to have opinions about it — is more evidence of the bizarre media brainwashing that convinces many to care passionately about brain-dead trivia. Your life will be happier and saner if you focus on yourself, your family and your friends, not on whatever scripted (or spontaneous) bilge that the media wants to pipe into your home.

I’m in the middle of migrating this website to new servers this week. This means you might encounter some unexpected behavior until I get all the bugs worked out. Clicking on my links (including this one) might cause your browser to give you the message that it’s a site without a current security certificate. It’s not actually unsafe, but there’s something which isn’t yet set up for the security certificate. I apologize for any such errors you might encounter while the process is going on. If you notice any problems with content which didn’t migrate properly, I would appreciate you letting me know the details at davidmcelroy@mac.com. Thanks for your patience.

I often wonder what animals think when they look at us and consider the society we’ve created. Yes, I know this is fanciful and unrealistic, but what if they could? Would they be astounded at how we treat each other? Would they be disgusted by the ugliness and pettiness which fill so many of our daily interactions? The truth is that I’m feeling pretty disgusted with humanity tonight. I made the mistake of reading some online interactions that I should have avoided — and it sickened me. The people involved appeared to be vile and stupid and arrogant. I wish I could pretend they’re a tiny minority, but I know better. It’s times such as this when I most need to escape much of “civilization” and disconnect from their world. If humans are going to be worthy of “ruling this planet,” we have a lot of growth to do. And I fear that growth is nowhere in sight. So my buddy Thomas, above, and all of his friends would be right to judge us harshly — and to think, “Why do you folks get to be in charge?”

I should have expected this, but I honestly didn’t. The article I wrote last week about disagreements over treatment for autistic children brought me angry emails. You could almost call it “hate mail.” Of the five emails about it so far, two have been to tell me that I’m wrong to even listen to critics of the most popular therapy for autistic children — and the other three tell me I’m wrong for not condemning the treatment as the “obvious” abuse it is. If you read the article, you know I didn’t take a position on the issue, because I simply don’t know enough to have an opinion. But by talking about the issue, I stepped into a heated controversy. The emails from the two sides convinced me of nothing. But they did give me even more empathy for the unfortunate parents who have to figure out for themselves where the truth lies for their children.

Have you ever had what you thought was a new idea — and then discovered that “old you” had the same idea years ago? I had that experience tonight. And it’s been wonderful. I came up with an idea tonight for a very short satirical film that would be a promotion for a fictitious college. The point is to make the college promote — as good things — everything which is actually terrible about most modern colleges. Then I remembered a fake college that I invented back when I was in college. I had created student recruitment brochures and various newsletters back then, so I decided to call my “new” college by the same name I’d invented years ago: Ochita College. As I searched my computer for any old material I might still have about Ochita from the past, I discovered an email I sent to someone in 2009 — outlining essentially the same idea which I came up with tonight. Since I didn’t remember writing that, it felt like magic. So my next film project just might be this one instead. If all goes well, you might soon see “Ochita College: Your Future Starts Here.” This should be fun.

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