a consistent voice

I was driving this weekend listening to the Atlanta Braves on the radio.  The game was delayed for over an hour by rain.  During the delay the radio station played a tribute to Skip Caray, the long time Braves broadcaster who passed away last year. 

The tribute included many of Skip’s famous calls, clips of his humorous takes on life and baseball, and comments from many of his friends, family, former players and broadcasters.  After listening to the tribute it was clear that Skip Caray will be missed by those who loved him.

I miss him.  I didn’t think I would miss him,  but I do.  I didn’t realize how much I miss him until I heard some of his famous calls on the tribute show.  

Skip’s voice defined summers for me when I was a kid.  His voice was always a friend on long drives to the beach in the summer.  Listening to Skip was a break from life.   

What amazes me about this “missing Skip” thing is that I never knew Skip Caray.  Never met him, never shook his hand, never even saw him from across a crowded room.  How could I miss someone I did not know?  What causes a guy like me to miss a man like him?

The voice right?

No, not the voice.  

Skip’s voice was not what causes me to miss him.  I hear voices all day long of people I won’t miss. So what was it? 

It was the consistency of his voice that made the difference.  It was the fact that Skip’s voice went along with so many other events in my life.  Skip’s voice seemed to always be around.  His voice was sort of a backdrop to my life. 

I would imagine Skip had some bad days.  Days when he didn’t do his best.  Days when he felt like he let the fans down.  Days when he went home feeling frustrated. 

But the next day he was still around. 

His voice was there.

I think as a husband and a dad it’s easy to get down on myself when I don’t live up to my own expectations. When I’m not my best.  The truth is, I’m not my best very often.  That’s why they call it being your “best” right?  Because it’s better than the average you. 

The average me loses his temper,  make some bad decisions, says some hurtful things, can be pretty lazy. 

But I’m still around.  

I’m still a backdrop in my family’s life.  And I think there is real value in that. 

I pray that when my kids grow up they remember the consistency of my presence and my voice.  I want them to remember that I was there at the games and helping with math homework and loving their mom, even if I didn’t do my best all the time. 

If you, like me, get frustrated about your faulty execution in living life, take a deep breath and relax.  I’m not so sure that perfect execution is what our loved ones are looking for.  I think they’re looking mostly to see if we’re around.