YouTube and You Two
YouTube was a place I went to watch a couple of TED presentations, and I learned to stream music from YouTube to my Wi-Fi stereo. That’s was my total YouTube experience — until the Coronavirus hit. My favorite news channels aren’t that anymore. I don’t enjoy watching last century’s bowl games or almost anything that carries that little word repeat in the info. Mimi likes Hallmark movies and occasionally comes across one she hasn’t seen, but I don’t do movies unless I plan way ahead because I get too involved. So it’s YouTube for me and I’m lovin’ it. Some of the interviews are amazing and on Sundays we “go to church” three or four times. But one of our favorites is music by Andre Rieu. Old music is still good music!
Rieu’s orchestra is appealing to me because the full-orbed sound of voice and instrument includes every kind of music — not just highbrow. I’ve become intrigued by the man, Andre. He plays the violin while at the same time conducting a huge orchestra he built from scratch, which not only exudes excellence but radiates joy. (The joy part especially engages me, because I have longed so much for all the people doing the music in the worship services we watch on Sundays to at least smile.) Here’s a man, I began to think, who has mastered not only music, but he has mastered life. He is happily married. He not only loves what he does but does it with effortless grace. His business is booming. He has income that will secure him forever. When he was asked if he took vacations he replied there was no need to because his tours are to him like vacations. And truly he looks the part — appearing to have no care in the world.
When I dug deeper I found a different story. True, he loves his work. And true, his goal is to bring joy to people through music produced by musicians who enjoy doing it. (Plus he is now worth a small mint.) But there is pain behind that relaxing never-ending smile. Through YouTube interviews I found that he went through a traumatic bankruptcy while trying to build his orchestra. Later he was ill for months — cancelling dozens of concerts around the world, nearly losing his business and all his musicians. He nor they knew if he would survive, and if he did would he be able to be “Andre” again. His disease was never fully diagnosed, but it was a combination of a rare virus and stressful burn-out (his word). Much to his credit he has overcome much. But his greatest nemesis is one that will never change. He sadly tells his interviewer that his father (also a conductor), Never told me he loved me, never said that he was proud of me, never told me “good job.” Yet, he said all those good things to my siblings whose lives oddly have not gone well. Andre Rieu never received what he most longed for — his father’s blessing (see June 23 Blog). So, I’m fooled again! Oh, not Andre’s doing, but mine. I compared myself with who this man seemed to be.
You can’t tell a book by its cover, said Bob as he began his talk to our church group. I met Bob at the gym. He was much younger than I but he had a story that would fit a much older man. Not a good story, but one that was beginning to have promise. I thought if he came to our church some of our people’s story would further inspire his upward trend — and vice versa. You see, Bob was good looking, well positioned in business, and had previously completed a brilliant athletic career at a local collage. Bob’s message was, Don’t be fooled by “successful people.” I am not who you think I am. I am like you!
Years ago, Mimi and I lived next door to a couple that caused us to look at each other and say, Why can’t we be like that? We felt shame when we were around them. One day their marriage exploded. The details are too painful to record here. We’re still close to one of the spouses who is a wonderful person.
This past Sunday our pastor told of a phenomenon afoot among young people (and beyond, in my estimate). It has three phases: One, I am worthless. Two: People don’t like me because I am worthless. Three: Because I am worthless and unliked I am hopeless. The genesis of this triad? Everybody around me is beautiful, successful, happy, trouble-free, smart, and well-liked. I am none of these so I am worthless.
Our book, Door to a Lasting Marriage, had a subtitle we were told to drop by those wiser than we. We dropped it reluctantly. The sentence — The ABCs of a B+ Marriage — would have assured people that our marriage is not like it may appear. It’s really just like yours. We’re like beggars just simply sharing with other beggars where we’ve found food. So take heart, you two, and keep hanging in there.
