Sombody!!
I have barred the door as I feel the mob gathering to charge, armed with clubs and torches. Words that have been slowly mulling in my mind for years spewed out into an astonishing reality in my dreams last night. The song that resounded over and over and over in my dream was one that Frank Sinatra made famous, “You’re Nobody, Til Somebody Loves You”. I am a fan of Ole Blue-eyes, but I must admit, this song has left me confused. The song implies that you can’t be somebody till someone else loves you, however the end tells you to go and find someone to love. How does finding someone for you to love cause them to love you and thereby make you a somebody? This had been my life’s theme for a long time as I didn’t feel as if anyone loved me and therefore I was a nobody.
Not long ago I was watching a crime drama on television. Before this girl went missing and was ultimately found dead, she reached out to an FBI agent that she remembered due to his kindness towards her. Alas, the FBI agent, through the entire show, could not remember her. She had been, after all, a lowly receptionist where he used to work. In other words, a nobody. While the agent never remembered her, he did try to change his ways at the end to be more aware and more mindful of those who were seemingly of less importance.
In my dream last night, the part I remember most, an older woman had passed away. Another woman, who turned out to be her daughter, read off a list of the dead woman’s accomplishments. I felt impressed by all she had done. However, the orator stopped abruptly without finishing and blurted out, “In other words, a nobody”. I snapped my head up and snatched the paper away and reprimanded, “No, she WAS somebody”. Then, as I began to berate the daughter, I woke up.
What makes one person more valuable than another?
Why should one race, religion or nationality be more vital than any other?
Every person, every human being IS somebody!
Just because one cleans toilets for a living while another lives off his trust-fund, doesn’t make either less important. Just because one owns many multimillion dollar homes and businesses while another lives on the streets and scrounges for food, does not make either more of a person.
I once heard a story that Donald Trump was in his limousine when it got a flat tire in a rain storm. A passer-by changed the tire and Mr. Trump wanted to repay him. The man left his business card and only asked that Mr. Trump send his wife a dozen roses. However, the “generous” Mr. Trump sent her dozens of roses and paid off the man’s mortgage. Whether or not this tale is true, I don’t know. But I wonder, does Mr. Trump even know anything about the people who clean his toilets everyday? Or are they faceless nobodies to him?
No, this is not a bash against Mr. Sinatra nor Mr. Trump. Due to illness I sit in my home pretty much all day, every day. The only “human” contact I have is on the internet. People do not drop by nor call just to chat. To them, I suppose, I am just an unemployed nobody not worthy of the time in their busy day. But that’s okay. Think about all the people you encounter every day. Office workers you hardly glance at as they rush by on their way to the lunchroom. The receptionist who manages so much for you, you don’t know about. The person on the street you bump into while trying to talk on your cellphone. Nobodies to you, but somebody who is just as important as you think you are.