Know it, by Heart

Lt. Frank Elkins

I'm drawn to characters.  Fortunately, nursing is full of them.  In the hospital I loved witnessing the arm waving, frenetically-spun tales spewed at light speed from the cachectic, substance-addled housekeeper.  Or the quiet wisdom of the dimunitive maintenence man who also taught photography and was so passionate about recycling he wound up creating his own position within the system as head of the recycling program.  There was the acerbic wit of the respiratory therapist who also had a nursing license and his CDL (commercial drivers license for truckers), his own band (which played fantastic 80's rock covers), an impressive armory of semi-automatic weapons and a deep knowledge of disaster prepping.  But Jon Glass RN, oh, he was a whopper - and an enigma.  It seemed humanly impossible to have accomplished all he said he'd done - professional bodybuilder, third-degree black belt, owner of his own record label, world traveler, paralyzed for a year from a deadly disease (now fully recovered) - the list was endless.  One day he told me of his hero uncle, a man among men, Navy fighter pilot in Vietnam, shot down early in the war, remains recovered only recently after a long struggle by his widow, nearly creating an international incident.  "My aunt wrote a book about it", Jon said, "The Heart of a Man".  Aha!  I immediately grasped upon this tangible verification of his fantastical tales by researching it on Amazon.  Sure enough, it existed, but this was no satisfactory proof.  I ordered it and when it arrived, devoured it, gratified to  find in its pages a true man among men.  Still skeptical of Jon's connection, I researched the author, Marilyn Elkins, now Dr. Elkins teaching for a California university.  Glowing from the recent reading of her husband's story I sent her the following effusive e-mail, primarily to thank her but subversively to ascertain, once and for all, the veracity of her lovable, puzzling "nephew":

Dr. Elkins, I just this minute finished your book “The Heart of a Man” and wanted to thank you for your courage and perseverance in encapsulating a small piece of your husband’s life into a vessel meant for sharing and illuminating.  I was recommended the book by a man who says he’s your nephew, John Glass – he and I work together here in Charlotte, NC.  I devoured your book and was particularly struck by Frank’s last journal entry where he describes the drive to prove oneself – that resonates deeply with me.  I had just finished a book about 19^th-century Arctic explorers, “Resolute”, in which that same inner drive fashioned some of the most fantastic and unimaginably grueling enterprises ever chronicled.  That drive has, in my mind, spawned a small host of heroes through the ages.  Belated as it is, I am sorry for your loss - sorry for us all. Thank you again for letting his light shine, warming and whetting the drive to pursue the “better angels of our nature”, for the good of those around us.

Six weeks passed and, frankly, I forgot about the whole thing.  I mean, why did it really matter if he felt the need for hyperbole?  He did great work, I enjoyed his company, he wasn't full of annoying braggadocio - he just quietly dropped these fantastic assertions into normal conversation and they caused me spasms of doubt, that's all.  The world spun, birds sang, life shuffled forward.  Then, just as quietly, a little message popped into my Outlook:

Thanks, John, for your kind words. Give John a hug for me; his mom was Frank's sister.

Hope you have a wonderful holiday, 

Marilyn 

I started grinning, ear to ear. Character, it seems, counts for something, after all.