Those sage words and memories of their inestimable owner came back to me earlier this year. Then, earlier this week, I came back to them.
Having met the now-late, great Mattie and his mom Jeni many years ago, I am unsure what year is attached to that adage. But while observing from that lofty place, he may be pleased knowing I built on his advice this week — not once but two mornings.
Amid a drought and minimal moisture this summer, Labor Day Monday and Tuesday were forecast for all-day rain. No thunder, lightning nor strong gusts of wind, per my weather previews.
With all that in mind, in the morning of both days I mounted my stand-up paddle board and shoved off under cloudy, gray skies delivering steady, cold droplets. And I loved both excursions.
Though neither ‘after’ nor amid a ‘storm’, the weather conditions were less than ideal but with plenty of visibility. Thus I was playing during a storm, akin to Mattie’s wise counsel.
The author of seven books of poetry and peacemaking, Mattie was a 10-year-old when our paths crossed almost exactly 22 years ago. He then was more than two-thirds through his time on Planet Earth, and he accomplished exponentially more than many ever will.
He was the youngest of four children, all of whom preceded him in death, his mom Jeni explained to me in the Maryland suburbs southeast of Washington. He was valiantly enduring a variation of Muscular Dystrophy, which had taken his siblings and was afflicting his mom, who was pursuing an advanced degree in Anticipatory Grief at the University of Maryland. That discipline entails learning how to cope with the ‘vacuum’ of support services once a loved one dies, she told me.
His story was soon to be featured on Maryland public television and my responsibility was to advance that broadcast for my newspaper in the Maryland county where they were residing. Within years he would meet and awe Oprah Winfrey and 39th US President Jimmy Carter.
Having started that job in August 2000, I must have encountered Jeni and Mattie that same month because days later I saw Mattie at play among his element: some of his most enthusiastic supporters were firefighters, who at the time were raising money weeks prior to the Muscular Dystrophy Labor Day Telethon.
On Labor Day 2022, temperatures were moderate, hovering in the low 70s as I embarked on a regular route that encompasses roughly three nautical miles. One day later the mercury had dipped about 10 degrees, though still within my comfort zone as I tend to like chilly weather.
Both days were fulfillment of a longtime dream: paddling in steady summer rain. I was hardly concerned about getting wet considering I was standing on a saltwater body and subject to toppling as I have many times.
This playfulness had been a dream since shortly after the impulse purchase of the paddle board in early Spring 2020 as quarantine fatigue set in. Learning how to mount it is lots harder than it looks.
So too did I see Mattie at play. Days after publication of the newspaper story, the county fire department tipped me to its yearly invitational softball tournament and shortly after arrival I was strolling the grounds with the fire chief when Mattie zips by in his electric wheelchair with a big smile on his face. I seem to recall he was not wheelchair-bound while at home.
Teams consisting of nationwide firefighters supporting the telethon knew exactly who were both Mattie and the chief.