Magnum Opus

It was almost go time. He could feel his heart beating a little faster than before. It wasn't that this was the first time he had done this, he had been before a audience before. This was different though, more personal. He mentally sifted through his notes. Football, check, fishing, check, wedding, check check. Everything had to be in synchrony, in order. In speeches before his business associates in the past, he may have skipped over a word here and there, or changed a few specifics, but not this time, not this speech. This speech would be the one that would be looked on and remembered for years to come, and he would be scrutinized and listened to with all ears. He could not believe he was actually thinking about being nervous. After all this was not his first rodeo. He knew exactly how to speak to people and get his point across, he had taken public speaking courses, and this was his business, he had built it from the ground up. He often engaged people and spoke to big crowds. This was certainly nothing new. But this time it was high stakes. The biggest and toughest audience he had ever had, or would ever have.

The sound if shuffling of shoes, filled the air as people began filing in the building. There was a low pitched murmor starting to seep the stagnant air. The crispness that once was, now suddenly felt hazy and stuffy. He placed a finger under his collar and adjusted his tie. He was normally dressed a little less formally, today it was a tie , cuff links, the whole nine yards. He longed to ditch what he referred to as the monkey suit and run free. He felt panic start to set in, the flight or fight mechanism. He felt beads of sweat starting to form on his brow as he patted it with a napkin from his pocket. Now he just felt ridiculous so he started doing his relaxation techniques, breathing deeply, thinking of the lake where he spent countless hours, the cool water and the misty clouds low to the ground in the cool morning. It helped him calm down every time, memories of home. Those were the days back then , being a kid on the lake in New England. There was so much to explore. His father used to take him hiking on the trails around the lake. They would stop to fish , pulling bass and perch out of the water. He stopped to ponder why they never ate much fish. He chuckled to himself about the inside joke he and his dad had. There was never a good fillet knife around when you needed one. His dad was more of a catch and release guy anyway. He continued that tradition with his own son. They ended up always eating hot digs and chips. He remembered his fathers favorite were plain potato chips, no ridges, no extra flavors, just plain. That was the way his father was too, very matter of fact, not flowery. He was direct and to the point. He got that from the military at a early age. He was in the military career, and went up in the ranks. They did move around quite a bit, in the United States and Europe. But no matter where they lived, they always would wind up back at the lake house. The wood frame cottage style, with its porch overlooking the lapping shore of the lake. He and his sister would sit out on the dock and play. Their dad would join them , and they got in the habit of playing tricks on eachother , their favorite was seeing who could attach the most bells made for fishing poles to the back of his shirt. They were so stealth and quiet when they attached them , he was always surprised when he finally got up. He sounded like santas sliegh had come to life. He chuckled as he recalled he and his sister collapsing in laughter on the dock.

His mind went suddenly to relive hundreds of memories rushing back, of the house, of family and friends. He was so caught up in the emotions that he did not see his assistant motioning to him. It was time.

He refocused, and walked out to the podium. He knew he could do this. He stepped out with his head held high, with all the confidence he could muster. He had to incorperate the strength of hercules, and the softness and sensitivity of a baby lamb. The time had finally come. His palms felt damp as he adjusted the microphone and prepared to speak.

He turned to face the crowd. He then felt a lump in his throat as he turned to his right where the body of his father lay. The casket was silver draped with a ameican flag. He looked at his mother, in a plain black dress, pillbox hat, clinging to his sister. He swallowed and the lump disappeared.

"Good morning, my wonderful family, and friends, we are here to honor our husband father, friend, mentor and wonderful human being" and with that he knew he would make it though. He spoke about his fathers courage though military conflicts, helping his fellow man. He spoke about his giving to others, without expecting anything in return, and his fathers support of his children, and his support through his own failures at football. How they bonded over fishing, and his epic speech as his best man in his wedding. A tear fell down his cheek as he once again recalled the private moments they shared that he would treasure. He looked at his mother and sister as they were smiling, wet eyes but happy faces, sharing in the memories with him. Finally he spoke about that happy place they always went back to, the root of their family, the beloved lake house.

As he finished his last sentence he took a deep breath, and thanked everyone for being here to celebrate this wonderful life. He knew his father was looking down on him and had given him strength and courage on this, his magnum opus.