Inspiration II

My cousin Jeff was born almost exactly 6 months before me.  Due to this fact, we were absolutely inseparable friends and spent, on average, 5 days a week at each other's houses.  We enjoyed a lot of different activities and we had fun regardless of what we did together.  We experienced a lot firsts together, as well, one being smoking cigarettes, though that is not tantamount to this story.

Jeff was a fun-loving, helpful boy who would do anything for someone in need, although he also had a temperamental side.  Jeff was very smart; he could tell you the batting average of Reggie Jackson during his first year in the Major Leagues and then go on to inform you of the man's slugging percentage, on base percentage, home-runs, singles, doubles and triples.  He was a veritable lexicon of sports statistics.

Jeff also had, in my estimation, an IQof between 70 and 80.  Regardless, to me he was the perfect friend; when people first started to tell me that Jeff was a little "slow," I didn't understand.  He certainly could run fast and when he hit a home-run in our makeshift, backyard ball diamond that included its very own home-run wall, he rounded the bases much faster than me.  Slow?  I don't know what world these people were living in, that was one quick boy!

Due to his social and speech inequities, Jeff was often made fun of in and out of school.  He paid the people no mind, though I was infuriated at the rude comments and sideways glances he would get in the halls at school.  That was the thing; all of these things slid off of Jeff like water off a duck's back.  He would simply go on with his day and have the fun that he was entitled to have.

Although he was considered, by some, to be "disadvantaged," he was successful in anything that he tried to do.  And, here's the huge  part, regardless of what other people considered to be a metric for determining whether an action was successful or otherwise, Jeff found success in his performance regardless  of what the standard notion of success was.  He could fall down the stairs and be happy that he did it the best way that he could.

I struggle to this very day in finding peace with my own success.  Jeff found peace on the inside, whereas most of us look for peace on the outside.  We may never be truly happy with our accomplishments, regardless of whether they are amazing and profound.  Jeff could.  And he did.  On a daily basis.

On January 26th in the year of our Lord 2001, Jeffrey Scott Galle was killed in a head on collision with a tour bus.  I'm assuming he died on impact and felt no pain.  I also assume that, as he passed into the great beyond, he was more than happy with what he had done on this earth.  How many of us can say that?  I, for one, cannot.

I can't wait to play football with you again someday.  And I can't wait to hear you say again, "Jeffrey Galle for the Chicago Bears scores!"

requiescat in pace