Fridays With Louis - On Being Generous and Grateful

Not much going on around here. On Tuesday, June 15, Louis marked the end of his 32nd year in prison. 32 years. I can’t even begin to imagine what that would be like. It’s hard to believe he wrote the opening to Letters to Laura eight years ago. It seems like yesterday. The funny thing is, Louis says the older he gets, the easier it is to do time. I don’t know about that, but I do know the older we get, the more quickly time seems to pass. I know my life is going by in a blur. The hours or days, on occasion, may seem endless, but the weeks and months and even years seem to pass with astonishing rapidity.

But today’s post is about Louis, not me. He’s doing well, enjoying the summer to the best of his ability. Louis loves to be outdoors, loves the elements. He’ll walk or run in the rain, no problem. Even the freezing rain, if given the chance to. He volunteers to shovel snow just to spend more time outside. (In the winter, yard is often canceled due to inclement weather.) He recently applied for a job working in the yard, but was turned down because of his security code rating, due to his escape attempt in 1983, or 27 years ago. Never mind he’s not the same man now he was then. Mistakes like that will dog a man forever in prison.

No matter. He keeps himself focused on the positive, so he keeps himself busy with what he can do--lifting, bocce ball, handball (gotta watch those knees), and running. He also has a new friend, Mike, who does laps with him. Mike is in a wheelchair. Mike is a paraplegic.

So Louis is learning about the frustrations and challenges of being a paraplegic. What that entails, such as all the maintenance involved in keeping up a wheelchair. Mike has his own wheelchair, a quality model, which he needs to keep in top shape. If it breaks down, he will be issued a state model, which would be less preferable than his own. So that keeps him motivated to take care of what he has. Mike would like to have his legs amputated, so he can be fitted for prosthetics and have the chance to walk again, but that won't happen as long as he's in prison.

They met as next door neighbors. Louis started sharing food with Mike. Eventually, he was sharing so much food that he noticed Mike was putting on weight. So Louis told him, “You want me to keep feeding you, you’ve got to start working out.”

And so off they went, starting slow, loop after loop after loop around the track. Last Louis told me, they were up to 12 laps. They play bocce ball. Mike leans over and rolls the ball from the wheelchair.

Life is about being a good steward of what you have--as Mike is with maintaining his wheelchair, and Louis is with sharing his food--and helping others to be the best they can be. I do this for Louis, Louis does it for me. Because of that—or what I call the solid foundation of our friendship--we are able to reach out and help others in the same way. Although Louis was being generous a whole lot sooner than I was. I think he was born generous. Me, it was an acquired trait, learned by example. As I began to benefit from the enormous amount of generosity in Louis’s heart, I felt compelled to share my own with others.

Louis is definitely more generous with his time, talent, and treasure than I am, hands down, and while I’m not too shabby in that department, I know I could be doing a lot better. Having been stripped of all of his worldly possessions save those he can fit into one footlocker, however, Louis has learned to let go of things easier than I have. I still have my moments of material possessiveness, of emotional selfishness. Strong moments of each. He likes to tease me about them. How I’m always trying to divest myself of stuff and attachments, but never seem to get too far in the process. Instead I get caught up in the next shiny new idea that comes along.

I’ve always said that knowing Louis helps to keep my life in perspective. Even on my worst day, I can remind myself I’m not in his situation, serving life for a crime I did not commit. And even on his worst day, he can remind himself things could be worse. As can Mike. Mike is grateful he’s not bedridden. Louis is grateful he can still lift and run and play handball. I am grateful I am free and have the power of choice.

What are you grateful for today?