February 4: Saintly Fellow, Mask, Unsmiling

Catching his own reflection in a window, Ives, nondescript in an overcoat, hat, and scarf, judged himself a most pleasant looking, perhaps saintly, fellow...

Most people who know Ives see him in this light:  normal to the point of boring, pleasant, spiritual.  He's known as a good man in his neighborhood.  He volunteers at community centers.  Goes to church every Sunday (sometimes more).  Helps his friends in need:  gives them money, takes in their children, finds jobs for their relatives.  Ives is all of these things.  Yet, he's also incredibly sad for most of his life.  Suffers mental and physical afflictions.  He is a complex man, but he wears a mask.  He is Saint Ives to those who meet him at church, on the street, in the hallways at work.

It's pretty tiring wearing a mask every day, only taking it off at home, when the front door is locked.  I know.  I do it all week long.  At work, I'm happy, positive.  I tell jokes, draw cartoons, make everybody laugh.  I don't mind being that person.  I like making people smile.  But if I'm quiet at work, if I don't feel like talking, inevitably someone will ask me, "What's wrong?"

It's exhausting being a good guy all the time.  At night, when I get home and lock the front door, I say very little.  Sometimes, I just sit on the couch and try not to snap or be angry.  It's like I use up all of my goodwill during daylight hours.  It's not fair to my family.  I know that.  Usually, after a little while, I can carry on a conversation without swearing, being critical, or making my daughter cry.  It takes a little while.

I'm an introvert.  While I hide it pretty well, I know that I need solitude to recharge my well of kindness.  I find it at night, right before I fall asleep.  In the morning, before everyone else wakes up.  In my car, as I drive to and from work.  I simply need to be alone.  To not wear a mask.  To be myself, bad disposition and all.

So, if you see me walking across campus at the university or sitting by myself in his car, looking as if I'm trying to solve a some math problem or solve world hunger, don't worry.

That's just Saint Marty being himself for a few, quiet moments.

Take off your mask.  See who you really are.