UNTOUCHED BY FAILURE

UNTOUCHED BY FAILURE

     It’s said that some people live charmed lives. If that’s truly the case, then a prime example was certainly my lifelong friend, Mickey Murray. We became friends during nursery school days and continued our friendship through school years. Even when our paths diverged, we kept up and visited each other regularly. 

     I never knew Mickey Murray to fail at anything. Even in nursery school, he could out run, out hide, and out charm anyone in the class. In grade school, he could outhit and outwit everyone. When choosing up sides, he was always the first one picked. He was also generous to a fault. When we would all go to the store to buy candy, if someone didn’t have enough money, he pull some out of his pocket and give it to them. He’d just say, “It’s only money, but a candy bar’s a candy bar.” In high school, he lettered in baseball, basketball, and football. He was a member of the honor society, president of the student body, an Eagle Scout, and all around popular guy. He was wooed by all the Ivy’s, and coming from a small town in eastern North Carolina this was a big deal. However, he had his heart set on Carolina. He would call Chapel Hill home through his college years and through medical school. He specialized in pediatric oncology. This seemed a perfect fit for him, as he always loved children and had such a warm, empathetic spirit. It's obviously a field that requiresd huge reserves of strength.

     During medical school, he courted and married Alex Simmons. “Alex” was short (by a single letter) for Alexa. She preferred it to Alexa as it sounded more down to earth and less theatrical or haughty in her mind. Mickey and Alex had three wonderful children who would go on to have successful lives. Alex was also a successful painter and writer. While I watched Alex and the children go through the normal ups and downs of life, Mickey always seemed to fly above it all. 

     After forty years of successful practice, Mickey and Alex retired to eastern North Carolina where they would host their children and grandchildren, along with multitudes of friends they had made over the years. One year, I paid them a visit and had a chance to talk with Mickey about his life.

     As we sat on their front porch (Mickey always preferred front porches to back porches.  He liked to see the world go by. Back porches were, to him, for gossip and insularity.), I asked him what the secret of his life had been. He looked somewhat astonished at the question as though he had always taken his success for granted, but not too seriously. 

     However, he didn’t need any time at all to come up with an answer.  He reached for his wallet and pulled out a picture  “Do you know how that is, Paul?” he asked.

     “No Mickey, I don’t.” 

     “That’s my little brother Stewart.” 

     I had never known Stewart. He died when Mickey and I were just four and before I even knew Mickey. 

     “Stewart only lived to be two years of age. He died from a rare form of cancer. Even though I was only four years old when he died, I remember every second we spent together. I remember the first time I saw him when he and mama came home from the hospital. I remember the first time I was allowed to hold him, with some help from papa. I remember playing with him, especially when he began to crawl. I remember his jibber jabber. But mostly, I remember his smile. He had to endure the most awful treatments and was wracked with pain. But his smile always returned. He was a happy baby. I told myself that if he could be so happy and make everyone around him so happy with all that he was going through, I should be able to as well. He has always been my inspiration.”

     Mickey then showed me some more pictures he has always kept in his wallet. One was a picture of him and Stewart. One was a family picture of Mr. and Mrs. Murray, Stewart and Mickey. In every picture, Stewart had a wonderful smile on his face.

     “Mickey, I can see how Stewart inspired you, but it still seems incredible that you have had all the success that you’ve had,” I then commented.

     “Paul, you see whatever success I have had. I see the tears of parents who have lost a child to cancer, the struggle and pain of those children, the financial stress of caring for a sick child, marital breakups. Those losses and hardships have been mine as well. I’ve been blessed with success so that I could deal better with failure. That’s the way I look at it. I do get down from time to time. Instead of reaching for a glass of something, I reach for my wallet and pull out Stewart’s picture. He never fails to boost me up and set me straight.”

     I remember going to Mickey’s funeral. He died peacefully in his sleep at the age of eighty-seven. He had written his own eulogy and I was honored to be asked to read it. It was about his brother Stewart.