“Hey,” Matt, standing
over the bed one morning, poked me while he was getting dressed. “Did you guys
get Lincoln at the library yet?”
I pulled the blankets over my head, hoping the morning would
magically revert to night. “Probably,” I said.
“Bring it home, would you? I want to see that one.”
“Sure,” I said, drifting in and out of consciousness.
-
Later, at the library, holding the DVD in my hands, I
struggled over it. If I take this movie
home, I thought, I will have to watch
it. And it’s history. And it’s serious. And it might be boring. There’s no
magic or dragons or anything. This is not the one where he hunts vampires on
the side.
But I can’t pretend I
slept through Matt’s request, because that would be a lie.
With a heavy sigh, I checked the Academy Award winning movie
out to myself and put it in my purse.
-
That night, we ate dinner in front of the TV like
uncivilized heathens as we watched our artsy, sophisticated movie. It required
more focus than my usual fare, and there weren’t many explosions involved, but
I felt I was catching the gist of it.
Mostly, I was loving the main character. Lincoln was such a likable guy, with his
homespun nature and his anecdotes and careful speeches. At one point, another
character proclaims, “I can’t stand to hear another one of your stories!” Here
was a man (or, at least, a portrayal of a man) who collected words found far
afield and saved them for sharing later, like butterflies pinned to a board.
This is an idea I can get behind, as I have a similar collection
myself.
Deep into the movie, as Lincoln was speaking and I recognized a quote
from Shakespeare, I had an epiphany:
Think about it. The man read everything and quoted it back
at people. He was known for it, all the time reciting stories he had read
somewhere. The man was an expert on the pop-culture of his time – there was
just less pop-culture back then.
This is a man who, if he were alive today, would read Harry
Potter, because he read everything, and he would remember all the best and most
compelling details and quote them back at us at appropriate times. Maybe he
would read James Patterson or have a penchant for Tom Clancy or favor
adventures from Clive Cussler. Maybe, since he read Shakespeare, we can assume
he’s okay with magic and witches and spirits of the air, and he and I could
discuss Tolkien and Lewis and possibly Pratchett.
I could tell him about all the best books in my library and
he could introduce me to some I haven’t heard of before, and afterwards we
could discuss our favorite movies and TV shows, because he would have those too
– a man who loved stories as much as he did would gather them wherever he
could, no matter their form.
Suddenly, this boring, serious history movie was about a
real person, a nerd like me, and I wondered how many more are out there. What
else did I miss in history class? How many other geeks have gone quietly into
that good night – not just the authors and scientists who most obviously fit
the nerd stereotype, but the world leaders, the generals, the statesmen and the
explorers – when all they had to geek out over were poets and playwrights and
dead Greek philosophers?
My friends, we are not alone in this modern age. A line of
geeks and nerds stretches out before us clear back to the days when pop-culture
consisted only of stories shared around a tribal fire. The thing you geek out
over may be the thing you are remembered for later.
And who’s to say that years from now, when they make the
movie about your life, some other geek down the road won’t be saddened by the
loss of you, won’t wish fervently that you could have lived to see the ages
ahead?
Who’s to say that future geeks won’t wish they could have
talked with you, could have geeked out with you just once?
Maybe you’re unappreciated in your time, maybe you’re
surrounded by people who can’t stand to hear another one of your stories. Keep
sharing your stories anyway. Collect them and pin them neatly to the board
within your mind like all the most radiant, beaming, beautiful butterflies that
ever graced this earth. You may not go down in the annals of history for it,
but by God your own people will know you when they hear of you.
And everybody else doesn’t matter.
No comments:
Post a Comment