Every Man

“John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt! His name is my name, too! Whenever we go out, the people always shout! (There goes) John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt! (Ya da da da da da da…)”

When I attended the familial and fraternal gathering, to celebrate my friend, Tyler, I sat and watched. I viewed a sweet and somber, yet lovingly social, room full of people. I witnessed life-long friends and family, deep-in-knowing of Tyler, and his recent, significant transition into his beautiful hereafter.

I was slightly surprised, yet immediately smiled inside, of the picture chosen to represent Tyler at his remembrance. It was the very same picture, the one picture, I had also chosen to save from Tyler’s Facebook page, upon hearing the news of his passing. It’s a picture of Tyler, at a party, no-doubt, as he’s wearing a mostly-inflated, floppy gold-crown, in celebration of the occasion. He’s got a cigar in his mouth and a familiar, bemused, open-mouth grin on his happy face. But, it’s the name tag he’s wearing that catches my interest. It doesn’t say Tyler. Printed on the white sticker rectangle is the name, John Jacob.

When I was young, I had a magical moment. I didn’t realize it was magical at the time. It just was. Now, reflecting back on that moment, I will always remember it as one of the best memories of my entire life.

I was about 5-6 years old, in “Pre-First” (is what they called it), at Wood Acres Country Day School. Not Kindergarten, but not First Grade, either. I guess it was somewhere “In-Between”. In fact, that’s where I find this memory. It was a moment-in-time, a feeling. A feeling of peace, of subtle perfection, appreciation – a gentle love that pervades all space-and-time.

I was sitting in a wooden schoolhouse on a warm, not hot, what I think was a spring-to-summer day in Georgia. The teacher had turned off the overhead light and opened the door, allowing the naturally bright, sunny-day to enter the room. I remember sitting with my classmates at long, rectangular wooden tables. I was pulled up to the table, sitting in a small wooden chair, looking out the open-door, my eyes absorbing the hazy, yet bright, beam of golden-white sunlight. I was mesmerized, my eyes following the floating sparkles lighting up the spirit in the air. Now, I know them to be dust particles. I knew the small wooden stairs leading down to the gravel walk were just outside the door.

Yet, oddly and more often, looking back, I was happy just where I was.

We were singing John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt, “His name is My name, too…”; You may remember the song. We were singing it over and over, the way the song goes, up and down, louder and softer, sometimes to a whisper. We were entranced in the repetition.

Anyhow, I remember having a distinct thought, as the 45-vinyl spun on the wooden-box record player, belting out the lyrics and music in the background for us children to follow along. I remember thinking, “Purple. Purple is my favorite color crayon.” I can almost smell the warm wax, as I picture in my mind the large, oversize crayons they give to very young children to create a work-of-art.

That’s what it is. This most precious memory is a mental picture, a perceived work-of-art, that evokes a subtle, often unnoticed, yet familiar feeling of peace, gratitude, and appreciation for all that is – love.

I FEEL like Tyler wants me to speak. He wants me to tell you that he’s AWESOME.

Tyler IS eternal love. NOTHING BUT LOVE. LOVE that came to hang-out with US for awhile.

He came to teach. To remind us how to RELAX & HAVE FUN. To teach us how to ENJOY LIFE. To teach us not to take ourselves too seriously. And to try and BE HAPPY.

Tyler lived to lighten OUR load. To quietly absorb the stress and anguish of OUR serious selves.

To ease the burdens of OUR ego.

And to CELEBRATE. To Party HEARTY. Wearing a crown. A light-hearted, always-loving, CELESTIAL crown.

Tyler is now OUR ANGEL. He is partying in the ETERNAL. He is EVERYWHERE. Wearing HIS CROWN.

To Tyler’s family and friends, my family and friends.