My Third Novel's Conclusion, My Heartbreak

My heart begins to break when I think about completing this particular book -- because this narrative has sustained me like no other story I've known. It's both more personal and more universal than my other works. But beyond memory and archetype, it's a cri-de-coeur about needing to become the person one is destined to be. And in the writing, I have met my own life's work, my own fated journey -- having the sense all the while that the pages are suffused with a resonance, an energy, an electrified field that defies explanation. Writers hope and pray to be overtaken by a work in this way -- to be conscripted into passionate service of a profound story. To experience it even once in a lifetime seems a great privilege. I still have several months before this novel is complete, and this constitutes my reprieve. Because I'm not ready for the beauty to end.




Thursday, December 1, 2022

When Wealth Is Measured by the Content of a Man's Character: A Testament to Ken MacWilliams

OIG Hotline investigators, I promised to speak about my husband, because, after thirty-two-and-a-half years of marriage, he is still the person I most admire in the world.

Any why is that?

Character is not defined by the prosperous times, the easy years, the successes or the public acclaim.

No.  Character reveals itself during the trials, the setbacks, the losses, the frustrations.

My husband has been a beloved presence in my life, and never more so than over these past five years, when an FBI affiliate wrongfully placed my name on the FBI's "target of interest" list for two thousand two hundred and fifty dollars.

My husband has brought humor, resilience, love, protection, intelligence, and yes, a healthy dose of skepticism to this experience -- and to such a degree that I call him the guardian of my soul.

In his parenting of our sons, my husband has brought patience, optimism, encouragement, generosity, and constancy to our shared years of nurturing their growth.

He coached their soccer and basketball teams.  He attended their piano and cello recitals.  He bought them their first telescope.  He read them countless books. Even when his travels took him to distant destinations, he took the time to read the latest chapter of the The Lord of the Rings or The Hobbit over the phone.  He helped them paint their model rockets.  He helped me hide their Easter eggs.  He supported their education and, most importantly, their dreams.

When our oldest son was hospitalized in middle school for over a week, my husband worked all day only to spend every night next to our son's hospital bed, ensuring his safety while I tended to our younger child.

My husband has not been just an ordinary father to our sons; he has been a FATHER.  Compassionate, engaged, insightful, loving and wise.

To best illustrate my husband's character, I will share an anecdote of his conduct in a professional setting.

In 2001, my husband was working in Portland, Oregon for a semiconductor equipment manufacturer.  He was thriving professionally, and our family loved our lives in this locale, with wonderful friends, skiing at Mt. Hood, music at the Schnitzer Concert Hall downtown, and constant sports for our boys.

However, my husband's boss was a man who prided himself on his power and influence, and, he made clear, his ability to exact vengeance on those he deemed his "enemies."  I'll call him Jake (not his real name).

One day, Jake directed my husband to hire an associate whom I will call Ben into my husband's group from another area of the company.

My husband knew that Jake considered Ben to be an "enemy," when he was really a wonderful person who had once pointed out an error of Jake's in a public setting.  The minor embarrassment on Jake's part was enough to place Ben on the permanent "enemies list."

My husband told Jake that he didn't wish to hire Ben into the group, knowing Jake's antipathy toward him.  But Jake assured him that their "misunderstanding" had been successfully resolved and that the two of them were quite cordial with one another.  Jake gave my husband his word that the past would be no impediment to Ben's career development.

So, my husband hired Ben.

On the first day of Ben's employment in my husband's group, Jake called my husband into his office.

"How's it working out with Ben?" Jake asked.

"We're just getting started," my husband said.

"I would like you to fire him," Jake said.

"Pardon me?"

"Fire Ben," Jake ordered.

"I'm not willing to do that," my husband said.

"You work for me.  You'll do what I tell you to do," Jake said.

"Do you remember the conversation we had about your history with Ben not getting in the way of Ben's career development?"

"I changed my mind about that," Jake said.

"I'm not going to fire Ben," my husband said.

"If you don't fire him," Jake said, "I'll fire you."

"That's your ultimatum?" my husband asked.

"Yes."

"Do your own dirty work," my husband said.

My husband's principled stance meant the loss of his job.  It meant that we needed to sell our home.  It meant that our sons needed to leave their schools and the friends they loved.  It meant upheaval, uncertainty, economic loss, distress.

But it was the right thing to do.

I hold a picture in my mind's eye of my husband sitting down on the lawn next to our sons, the red oak leaves spangling the knoll around them, while he explained that to them that we would need to leave our cherished home.

I remember the face of the compassionate, principled, thoughtful man I married in this moment above all others.

He was out of a job, uncertain what the future would hold, cognizant that his actions meant a tremendous financial loss for his family, along with a relocation none of us desired.

And he was in that moment the richest man I knew.  Rich in character.  Rich in integrity.  Rich in love.

Good people of the OIG Hotline, my husband is an extraordinary person of the highest integrity, whose courage in life is matched by none that I know except perhaps his determined wife.

Any who speak ill of him bring shame upon themselves.

He stands without fault.




Lane MacWilliams

No comments:

Post a Comment