Wicked witch or no wicked witch

I've been thinking about the Cowardly Lion lately.  Of Dorothy's three Oz companions, Lion's lack of courage seemed to stand out far more than Scarecrows alleged stupidity or Tin Man's inability to love.  He seemed the most pathetic and least useful of the characters on the journey.  And yet, I can't think about courage or bravery without Lion coming to mind.  So deep is is the symbolic imprint from the repeated experience of watching that movie every year on television growing up. My affection for the whole Wizard of Oz ensemble remains intact.  Even for the lion whose opportunity for bravery seemed thrust upon him more than chosen.

That beloved movie and its climactic "reveal" about the power of mere symbols to transform and understand what is already within you certainly had an impact on me and perhaps on my generation.   (Does a generation unexposed to this film in repeated, ritualized screenings have the same understanding of the power of symbols?)

Bravery and courage have resurfaced as major themes for me lately.  And like the lion, theses do not feel like qualities that I possess.  Fear is something I understand. Courage is something that I attribute to those who do great things.  Is the act of temporarily setting aside fear so that you are not incapacitated the same thing as bravery?

We've all read the stories in the newspaper or heard them on TV news about the bystander who rushed into the burning building to save the child.  We love pointing to heroes and sometimes we find it a little too easy to stretch opportunistic happenstance into bona fide heroism.  Often the person at the center of the act of "bravery" will say things like, "Anyone in my position would have done the same thing."  Very often I find myself agreeing with statements like that.  I'm happy that that person was there at the right time and I am emotionally moved by the result but I definitely understand that there is something in most of us that will lead us to do the right thing when confronted by an intense situation.  Cowardly Lion proved that.

Painting by Reb Roberts

During my first hospitalization, my friend Girbe visited one evening bringing with him a painting by Reb Roberts.  Anyone familiar with the Grand Rapids arts scene, or even anyone who frequents downtown or East Hills or Eastown knows Reb's public work.  He's been pretty consistent for a long time.  I've been acquainted Reb long enough to remember his wife/companion Carol who died of cancer many years ago.

The painting of a cat creature with the word "Courage" at the top was a particularly meaningful gift, especially after I heard the story that came with it.  Girbe had run in to Reb (they are old friends) and had told him my story. The next day, Reb dropped off the painting to Girbe, telling him, "I want Chuck to have this."  I was very moved.

It is an overt statement, a symbol not unlike the medal pinned on the lion.  It is an external reminder about the real internal medicine that will be required to get through this.

This merman proudly hangs from my food-pump pole

Other friends have come through with symbols as well.  Alice's friend (and mine), Michelle, sent me a Christmas ornament along with a very personal, handwritten letter describing her mother's battle with breast cancer.  She recognized the cancer struggle as a journey and she also recognized the value of having an icon to mark that journey.  For Michelle it had been a flowered purse that she hung on a doorknob in her room.  It was wintertime and that visual reminder of a springtime, when it would be more appropriate to go out with that purse, was just the milestone symbol she needed to focus farther into the journey and to a better time.

For my journey, Michelle thought that having a very flamboyant and healthy-looking "merman" ornament hanging on my tree in December would be an excellent way to look back and remember the sometimes perilous journey of the past year.  I tend to agree!


Friends, Thom and Suzanne, set me up with a lucky acorn icon (love the way that one rolls off the tongue!) along with treats and a particularly memorable seasonal experience.  Sim Roos has been reading to me in a grand, expressive voice. And countless friends are dropping off food, flowers, books or movies, or chasing off squirrels in the walls, driving me to appointments and all providing excellent company.

So I can recognize the journey and I know my fellow travelers. It's really a reluctant hero's journey.  I think it is a fine line between a hero and a victim sometimes.  I don't feel brave at all.  When I'm accused of having courage I find the notion quite confusing.  I'm just the guy who says, "Anyone in my position would have done the same thing." and I rescued not a single child from any burning building.  My bravery comes from facing potential death from a bunch of mutating Chuck Peterson cells inside my esophagus.  I can't really run away from that.  Is that courage?  I call it dealing with the situation in front of me one day at a time.  What else can I do?

We'll all face mortality sooner or later.  For my friends and family I think I represent the notion that it could be sooner.  A sobering thought.  And if it makes you value each day that you are drawing breath a little bit more, I am happy to be that living symbol.

Cowardly Lion: All right, I'll go in there for Dorothy. Wicked Witch or no Wicked Witch, guards or no guards, I'll tear them apart. I may not come out alive, but I'm going in there. There's only one thing I want you fellows to do.
Tin Woodsman, Scarecrow: What's that?
Cowardly Lion: Talk me out of it!