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Dalton
Roberts |
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"Generally, by
the time you are real, most of your hair has been loved off and your
eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these
things don’t matter at all because you are real and you can’t be
ugly except to people who don’t understand." So spoke Margery
Williams in The Velveteen Rabbit and if you or one of your
children has ever owned a doll, you know she spoke the truth. A
well-loved doll looks pretty rough and it isn’t unusual for their eyes
to be loose or fall out. Even when the cotton starts pooching out the
child will want to keep the doll. Why does a child keep
clutching such a worn-out thing and hold it close through the night?
Could it be that all the love they have stored up in the doll keeps
coming back to warm their souls? It’s not the beauty
of such a doll that enthralls the child. After years of child handling
no doll will look very pretty. It’s because the doll is so real to the
child. They have loved each other so long that they have created an
energy field holding them in magnetic attraction. It’s the same with
people. People who are real become so beautiful to us that their flaws
just fall away. As Margery says, “they can’t be ugly except to
people who don’t understand.” The closest and
dearest friend I ever had never weighed more than 70 pounds. Polio had
drastically deformed his body. But when I saw him coming my inner being
would dance with joy. He was totally authentic and real. If he liked
you, every molecule in his body was loyal to you. Part of his magnetism
was his honesty but people who have moral flaws can sometimes have areas
of realness that endear them to us despite their flaws. That must be why
some men and women stay married to people who would be deemed worthless
in a majority vote. Who are we to say how much authenticity and realness
resides within these “worthless” people? I had a songwriting
friend who had always been a ton of fun to me. He had also introduced me
to movers and shakers in Nashville and helped me get my foot in the door
and have a hit song. One day I gave him a tape of some of my songs and
told him I would split writer credits with him if he got major artist
cuts on any of them. Instead, he took my name off one of the songs when
Eddy Arnold decided to record it. Another friend tipped me off and I was
able to correct ownership of the song but in the process I missed a
chance to get an Eddy Arnold cut at a time when he was red-hot. Years later I helped
him get set up in a business and a friend who knew the song-stealing
incident came and fussed at me, saying, “How could you help a man who
stole from you?” All I could think of at the times was that he was
interesting and the only unpardonable sin to me was to be boring. Yet,
time has reminded me there was more to it. Though the man had been
dishonest with me in one matter, he had been honest and helpful with me
in others. He had areas of realness. He was a real singer, a real
songwriter and one of the most colorful jaybirds I have ever known.
I’d give a hundred dollars right now if he could come back to life and
just ride around in the car with me today as I do my things. The
laughter and pleasure would be so real I would be wishing it would never
end. Real things never end.
The realness in people remains dear to us. The best prayer I can think
of is, “Lord help me to be real.” Dalton's website
is www.daltonroberts.com
and his writings are gathered at www.ipsfeatures.com
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