“On the day when Death will knock at thy door,
what will you offer Him?
As for me, I will set before my guest
the full vessel of my life.
I will never let him leave
with empty hands …” ~ R. Tagore

 

Todd had incredible aim.

 You could put something in his hand, point to something else nearby, and tell him to hit it — and much more often than not, he could … and he would!

I learned pretty quickly that this was not a talent to provoke with rude teasing when Todd was in the bunk above me holding a Hot Wheels car, as the scar on my scalp still attests to this day … In fact, I very efficiently learned that it was not enough to pick on Todd and be far enough away to flee his fists when he got mad … No, it was necessary to first make sure I was out of range of his perversely exact throwing arm.

In sports, his accuracy had its obvious advantages. I used to love to sit in the stands when Todd was pitching little league baseball.  He had a pretty good fastball, but that was all he had … No curve-ball, no splitter, no sinker and no change-up … just a fastball. It was a pretty fast fastball, but he wasn’t overpowering with it by any means.

What he was, of course, was pinpoint accurate.  He could put the ball exactly where he wanted to, exactly when he wanted to … which led to him striking out a phenomenal percentage of the batters he faced; something I never got tired of watching.

 

This talent carried over to other sports as well. In Ultimate Frisbee, Todd had a canon of a forehand — and, as with almost everything else he threw, it was extremely precise. Sometimes the disc arrived a bit too quickly for my tastes (Todd liked throwing the Frisbee very hard), and yet it was certainly on target when it got there. Often the choice was to either catch his throw or be bruised for life.

And my goodness, how many hours of Frisbee Golf we played over the years! Whenever we would take a trip together (something we were regularly blessed to do), we always brought at least two Frisbees with us, which allowed us to walk along whatever trail we were on or wander through whatever park we were visiting and start playing our version of disc golf. And here again, Todd could put it where he wanted to … I like to think I beat him every now & then, but I don’t really remember ever having done so.

 

While I was pondering these stories last night, I also realized something a bit profound about Todd — his accuracy of arm was mirrored in the accuracy with which he communicated.

He was very fond not only of speaking with precision himself, but in also demanding the same from others (certainly from me) … How many times he reprimanded me for using absolutes (“Never use absolutes” became one of our favorite mantras), or exaggerating a story, or over-analyzing a theme.  Sometimes he would come right out and tell me I was full of it, and other times he would just cock his head and smirk at me; knowing full well that I already knew that I had just blown a wispy haze over our conversation with words either cavernously hollow or thickly melodramatic.

Over time, I eventually adopted this mind-set as well, and came to know it as one of Todd’s greatest gifts to me; the awareness that both what we say and how we say it really matter — that it is wise to always pause before speaking to make sure that the words that flow forth from our mouths are as True as we can make them; to make sure that if we do “hit” anyone with those words, that we do so honestly … and gently.

 

“After a dear friend departs this life, the Love we shared never ends … It simply passes back and forth through the veil.” ~ inspired by Patti Brown

 

Filed under: A Tribute to Todd by Scaughdt