Rule Of Threes
Since I'm in this mood tonight, I figured I'd get something off of my chest that has been weighing heavily on me for quite a while.
There are three people who have been the biggest influences in my life ... they are the reason I am the man I am today.
I know you expect me to list one or both of my parents. They are very important to me and I hold them both very dear to me. But there are three people who edged them, in no order.
The first was Melvin R. Batten, my high school music teacher. I re-entered the public school system in my 10th grade year. At that point in my life, I was a broken and lost soul. I didn't know who I was and I had no way of finding my way on my own. Through events that I can only describe as devine intervention, I ended up under the tutelage wing of Mr. Batten. He saw me for who I really was. He saw me for the person I could be. He encouraged me. He challenged me. He educated me. He loved me with a father's love. He pushed me. Mr. Batten was a second father to me. Not to take the place of my dad, but rather to augment my dad. He was everything a teacher should be. He cared for his students as if they were his own children. He was equal in his teaching, his compassion, and his wrath. He gave me my confidence back. He gave me my voice. He gave me me. We lost him far too soon. But that is what happens from a life of heavy smoking. I mourn him to this day and think of him often.
The second was my grandmother, Mildred Osborn. I was the favorite of her grandchildren, her Precious Blue Eyes. She was my treasure, the one person I always looked forward to seeing, the one person I could not be in company with enough. I loved her face, her voice, her sternness, her love. I took perverse pleasure in being her favorite. I always thought I could never do wrong in her eyes, but it tortured me to see when I failed in her eyes. She was my heart. She was my compass. She was my grandmother. Where Mr. Batten gave me myself back, my grandmother constantly reminded me of who I was ... of who I could be. She once asked me, "What's wrong, Precious Blue Eyes? Your eyes used to smile." And that broke my heart. Because I didn't know what was wrong. Just that things weren't right. I tended to drift to dark seas, but my grandmother always found a way to bring me back to safe harbor.
The third is my oldest brother, Jimmie Lee Bise Jr. Growing up, he was my greatest torment and my biggest hero. That's what oldest brothers should be. He knew how to find and exploit my biggest weakness. Then he would show me how to overcome it. He introduced me to my first great love: music. He educated me in all of Her perfect forms. He taught me how to love her curves, her nuances, her imperfections and her perfections, her enigma. He opened my eyes to new horizons. He showed me the humor in the most serious music and the seriousness in the most humorous. He and I established our own language, our own rhythm, our on connection. To this day, when the two of us are in the same room, no one else stands a chance. While I have several best friends, he is my first and my foremost. If brothers can be soul mates, we are. I thank God every day that he is still a breathing part of my life. I fear that I might lose myself should I lose him. He continues to influence me. He continues to teach me. He continues to make me aspire to be better than what I am. I know I've never expressed all of this explicitly to him. I also know that, deep inside, he knows all of this.
Why did I title this post the way I did? Because things happen in threes. I have lost two of the three most influential people in my life. Life being the way it is, I will lose the third as well. That's just the cold hard reality. I hate that this is the way it is. But this is the way it is.
I needed to put all of this out here before it was too late to be shared and appreciated.
There are three people who have been the biggest influences in my life ... they are the reason I am the man I am today.
I know you expect me to list one or both of my parents. They are very important to me and I hold them both very dear to me. But there are three people who edged them, in no order.
The first was Melvin R. Batten, my high school music teacher. I re-entered the public school system in my 10th grade year. At that point in my life, I was a broken and lost soul. I didn't know who I was and I had no way of finding my way on my own. Through events that I can only describe as devine intervention, I ended up under the tutelage wing of Mr. Batten. He saw me for who I really was. He saw me for the person I could be. He encouraged me. He challenged me. He educated me. He loved me with a father's love. He pushed me. Mr. Batten was a second father to me. Not to take the place of my dad, but rather to augment my dad. He was everything a teacher should be. He cared for his students as if they were his own children. He was equal in his teaching, his compassion, and his wrath. He gave me my confidence back. He gave me my voice. He gave me me. We lost him far too soon. But that is what happens from a life of heavy smoking. I mourn him to this day and think of him often.
The second was my grandmother, Mildred Osborn. I was the favorite of her grandchildren, her Precious Blue Eyes. She was my treasure, the one person I always looked forward to seeing, the one person I could not be in company with enough. I loved her face, her voice, her sternness, her love. I took perverse pleasure in being her favorite. I always thought I could never do wrong in her eyes, but it tortured me to see when I failed in her eyes. She was my heart. She was my compass. She was my grandmother. Where Mr. Batten gave me myself back, my grandmother constantly reminded me of who I was ... of who I could be. She once asked me, "What's wrong, Precious Blue Eyes? Your eyes used to smile." And that broke my heart. Because I didn't know what was wrong. Just that things weren't right. I tended to drift to dark seas, but my grandmother always found a way to bring me back to safe harbor.
The third is my oldest brother, Jimmie Lee Bise Jr. Growing up, he was my greatest torment and my biggest hero. That's what oldest brothers should be. He knew how to find and exploit my biggest weakness. Then he would show me how to overcome it. He introduced me to my first great love: music. He educated me in all of Her perfect forms. He taught me how to love her curves, her nuances, her imperfections and her perfections, her enigma. He opened my eyes to new horizons. He showed me the humor in the most serious music and the seriousness in the most humorous. He and I established our own language, our own rhythm, our on connection. To this day, when the two of us are in the same room, no one else stands a chance. While I have several best friends, he is my first and my foremost. If brothers can be soul mates, we are. I thank God every day that he is still a breathing part of my life. I fear that I might lose myself should I lose him. He continues to influence me. He continues to teach me. He continues to make me aspire to be better than what I am. I know I've never expressed all of this explicitly to him. I also know that, deep inside, he knows all of this.
Why did I title this post the way I did? Because things happen in threes. I have lost two of the three most influential people in my life. Life being the way it is, I will lose the third as well. That's just the cold hard reality. I hate that this is the way it is. But this is the way it is.
I needed to put all of this out here before it was too late to be shared and appreciated.
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