The Tall Man with the Big Heart

Hey, Good Morning; it’s Tyler Head.

This week I am away from our normal cadence of life in Missouri at the beach with family for a week.

I was on a walk earlier this week and found a book titled: A Gentleman In Moscow: on page 2, the main character is quoted saying in response to asking if he writes: “I’ve been known to fence with a quill.”

I love that. It points to the power of words. When written, they can stand strong alone, maybe even more so if supported with relevant context. But in the practice of being with and being be’d with - words have the power to stand but are best used in relational dialogue where two or more parties can connect through those powerful things.

Anyways, may you fence with compassion.

Settle in, take a deep breath, maybe a sip of coffee, and walk with me for the next few minutes.

We've been coming here for years - for as long as I can remember.

That's what she told me early on in our relationship as she described the annual beach trip. It's a trip marked on the calendars by many, organized by few, and deeply anticipated by all.

I've heard it said that the tall man with the big heart started it way back. When the kids were young, and the parents were new to parenting. That makes sense to me.

He seems to move at a pace that invites you to come along. He is hardly ever in a rush and always willing to share a story, his-story. One of my favorites is about the summers spent milking cows in Louisiana on his grandfather's farm. Or another, a detailed account of the car he drove to pick up his now wife of 60+ years - for their first date.

It's safe to say the tall man with the big heart has set the tone for the long-awaited beach trip for many years. It's also safe to speculate we are all better because of it.

What a gift to be a part.

Our first year going -- I was a bit anxious, super excited, and honored to participate in the summer beach trip. Little did I know how powerful the yearly return to the same spot with the same people, doing the same thing for many days in a row, could have such a deep impact.

At the beach, the days all run together, making a slow-cycled cadence through the week.

Mornings - slow mornings. They are full of meandering conversation, leftovers for breakfast, prepping for the beach, mixing quality adult beverages, and preparing beachsammys (a dolled-up term for cold cuts).

Then like clockwork - not that anyone is really paying attention to the clock, we begin to ready ourselves for the great migration.

The great migration = transition from rooms to the beach.

First things first - sunscreen lines. Yes, everyone is sun-screening the other - it's wild how we all slowly make the shift. The sunscreen bottles are passed out like candy at a parade. It smells rich of creamy bananas and zinc, while the white lotion is spread across bodies like peanut butter with a knife. It protects us from the rays of sunshine that also give life. What a wild world we live in.

Cooler prep is no joke.

We empty the freezer ice trays into the coolers. *Insider knowledge - we use frozen water bottles to support the bottom of the beach-sammy cooler. This is not a proprietary secret - feel free to use that technique. Next up, canned adult beverages, bubbly water, and pro-biotic sodas (yes, that is a thing, and they're quite tasty) - and limes for the adult canned beverages.

Next, we rally the squad, ensuring everything is ready for the trek.

On the beach - we meander through the day. From beach games to thumbing through a long-awaited read to napping and catching manatees. Digging holes for laying in and mining for the world's best pearl. I cannot neglect the mention of the Great Jetty of Singer Island - where adventure is sure to be had. Towards the middle of the day, sometime between 1-3, someone says it out loud, and we all make our way out of the water into our beach hide-out. It's time for the world-renown beach-sammy.

From there, the latter half of the day meanders through the previously mentioned activities. More often than not, half of the crowd takes the infamous after-lunch mid-afternoon nap. What a sight to see. I hardly see it because I like to partake in the mid-afternoon nap.

All throughout these days on the beach, the tall old man with a big heart is nearby and present. Over the years, he's grown physically weary, but his presence is felt. It's felt in how he listens, smiles, nods, and cracks the type of jokes that cause your heart to smile: "Whew! It's hot. You guys go on into the water; I will work on bringing the wind."

The pace of this day is slow, present, and unhurried, and we repeat this throughout the week. I believe he knows something we don't.

Over the past six years of my partaking in the coveted beach trip with my dear family, I've come to know the tall man with the big heart quite well. Through observation, listening, and sharing stories.

I've observed a gentle patience that 70+ years of giving your life away must yield.

I've observed the power of a quiet smile and head nod in acknowledgment -- as so say, I hear you, dear, thanks for sharing.

I've observed a daily pace that I'd say most of us struggle with at any age - I know I do. But it's a pace we all deeply ache for yet hardly take the time to indulge.

I am tempted to believe that the tall man with the big heart is not as fast or sharp as he used to be - but I believe he’s onto something.

From my observation - the pace and intentionality of the beach trip is a direct correlation to the character of the tall man with the big heart.

In reference to the practice of being with others, here are a few lessons I’ve learned while being with him. We must listen more than we speak. Smile more than frown. Share words more than tell. Possibly, above all, be okay with moving at the speed of the relationship.

Slow, steady, tall, and big-hearted, the gentle old fella teaches me something whenever he's near.

The other night - upon receiving his meal at the yearly family favorite. Without hesitancy, he shares his meal. It went like this.

Takes a bite - closes his eyes, chews, breathes deeply, and said ohhh that's good. Looked across the table at me, cut off a piece, moved his wine glass, placed it on my plate, and invited me to try. I took a bite, and it was indeed good. Very good. He watched, smiled, and nodded.

I believe the tall man with the big heart is on to something.

Much like his life, he's shared so willingly and the pace at which we meander through the days at the beach. Being with and being be'd with is a practice that beckons us to share our lives at the pace of relationship.

It’s a slow meandering process, and maybe it's simple; with a nod and a smile, we keep on sharing who we are, as we are, and where we are.

I think the tall man with the big heart is on to something.

Talk again soon!

Thanks for being you.

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