Good evening to you all.
I know we’ve all been in sort of an anticipatory mode the last few days. By the clock, we’re just a paltry 40+ hours until the switch is turned around and things start heading back in the right direction.
Before we do, though, I’d like to introduce you to a very dear friend of mine. It wouldn’t surprise me if a few of you out there know him, too.
And if you’re thrown by the title of today’s story, please don’t be. It’s just the best thing I could come up with to characterize this exceptional and rare man.
As for his generally pensive nature, you need only to look at this photograph of him. Yeah, it’s what I like to call a “contemplative confidence.” Belief in himself certainly, but more than that, it wasn’t a case of how he was going to approach a challenge or problem, but more how little time it would take him to solve it. And like the clutch player he was, in everything he did, he solved things quickly. Yeah, he just always seemed to be one step ahead of everyone else.
Let me tell you something, and I swear this is true: I’m not sure he ever had a moment of panic in his entire life. As canned as it may sound, no matter the situation, he just always knew what to do.
Like any person who takes on a challenge, he was always determined. Yet, what he did along the way, both his thoughtful and enthusiastic approach to all things, that was his essence. How do I know this? Well, I’ve known him since I was 16 years old.
There’s something special about a person’s competitive spirit, especially when it’s accompanied by an unexpected kindness. Trust me on that one. This was the guy who would soundly beat you – and everyone else – in a race and then be the first one on the other side of the finish line, cheering you on wildly.
Again, just look at that picture of him…I’ll bet dollars for donuts that he’s thinking about climbing some hill in front of him. (Actually, in his case, it was probably more like a mountain!) While I know he had every confidence that he’d easily make it to the summit, his secondary plan, to will others to join him at the top, well, that was the far more compelling part of things.
As I mentioned earlier, this wasn’t just some hard charger with adrenaline and heart. His true joy was sharing his philosophy with others. In fact, I suspect he would have made one helluva drill sergeant, a benevolent one who was always more about “Do as I do” vs. “Do as I say.”
Back in the day, when you’d choose up sides for games, everyone knew instantly that he’d be part of the winning side. The only question that remained was how many of his teammates would be transformed into believers by game’s end. Sure, they all believed in him, but it’s what he did for them in return that was the cherished part of him, the princely part. I guarantee that anyone who knew him would say they never saw anyone have more fun winning.
And I guess that was the paradoxical part. No one ever resented him for all his skill, speed and joy in all that winning. Instead, they applauded him for his class, grace and grit along the way. Some cross between a smaller, speedier Arnold Schwarzenegger and some hybrid of Mikhail Baryshnikov and perhaps Gayle Sayers, we all stood in awe of him.
All that princely grace, and he was taken from all of us way too soon.
Can’t begin to tell you how much I miss you, Jeff Shieh; we all do.
And it’s not much, brother, but I’d like to make you a promise.
Because of what I’ve learned from you across so many years, you have my word of honor that I’ll never again do anything half-assed. I’ll never just mail it in or give anything short of my very best effort. Not ever.
Jeffrey Shieh (1968 – 2024)
“Life doesn’t play fair, so I vow to win the game for both of us.” – Amy Hoover
JFish
@Copyright 2024 by John L. Fischer
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