My father hurt his back in a work-related accident and spent the rest of his life in unremitting, searing pain. He tried doctors, surgeons and chiropractors to no avail. He hated what drugs did to his mind and yet they still only took the edge off. He felt absent from his own life.
Nothing worked until he discovered the power of his brain.
He learned that focusing on the pain only amplified it. But focusing on something else entirely left no room for the pain. Intense concentration brought him relief in large swaths of time yet left him with a life to live. A productive life.
He told me during one visit home that he was considering learning about computers. He was so computer illiterate from my engineering perspective that I thought he was talking about learning to use a word processor or a spread sheet. I encouraged him, not that he needed it.
The next trip home there was a new shelf in his office lined with huge, daunting books. I asked him about it and replied, “Oh, that’s the computer course I’m taking.”
I was confused. “Now, what are you doing?”
“That’s my computer course,” he answered offhandedly.
“What?”
“I’m learning to build and repair computers.” he stated matter-of-factly.
“Oh,” I said, trying to reel my jaw back in. Dad was a few months shy of his 70th birthday.
Mom later told me that Dad had asked a thirty-something “kid” at church a question about computers and the guy had responded,”What do you want to know that for? You can’t learn computers!” The implication that he was too old remained barely unspoken. Later on the same young man was asking Dad questions.
It never crossed my mind that he would build a small computer business. Before long he was repairing the computers at church and updating software. Motherboards and memory sticks could be seen lying around. He helped me change out a hard drive on my Mac.
Strangers knocked on the door at odd times to see if Mr. Ritchie had finished building their new computer. He would patiently explain the latest technology to people half his age. He would pour through magazines and catalogs to find deals and keep up with new developments.
“It’s like a really complicated puzzle,” he explained. “It keeps my mind busy. My back doesn’t hurt for hours at a time.”
It was never about money. He just needed a challenge big enough to occupy his mind. He began assembling computers out of leftover parts to give to school children in need. He took the money and bought food and coats for total strangers.
He was looking at commercial business space by the time he finally got too sick to work. The crowd at his funeral was a thing to behold. I heard tales about my Dad from total strangers of the help he’d provided. Even his pastor was shocked at the reach of this quiet, unassuming man.
Of all the things he taught me, this lesson shines through: We are not limited by what we cannot do, but by what we can’t imagine doing.
Another post about my Dad: Showdown In The Sand
Photo from BotheredByBees via Flickr
I’d say we need a country full of Mr. Ritchies. Can you imagine how fast we could turn our economy around if even a tiny percentage of our citizens had that type of resolve? Wow.
It’s funny that you wrote about this story today. Just last week I was thinking about how he got into computers. When he first got interested he invited me to join him in a computer class for beginners at church on Wednesday nights (just after services). I believe I was 13 at the time. Windows 3.1 had just come out and the course was on the differences between DOS 6 and Windows. We were both enthralled. He bought a computer and when I would come over we would learn together. Initially, I would pass along what little knowledge I had on getting around in programs.
One night, several weeks into the class, Grandaddy asked a simple question. The course instructor turned to him and said condescendingly, “You don’t know ANYTHING about computers do you?” Grandaddy didn’t say anything at the time, but he was inwardly appalled at the man’s attitude. Shortly after he bought that computer building and programing course and within a matter of weeks had trained himself to build them. Quickly, our “computer relationship” changed from him asking me how to open and operate different programs, to me asking him.
This is another of my favorite memories of him. He shattered the stereotype of senior citizens not knowing how to operate computers to the point that he was now teaching me, a teenager of the “tech” generation and he was building them to boot (pun intended)! He had the attitude that you can do anything if you set your mind to it, study and learn, no matter your age!
Keep the stories coming! Love them!
Mom just told me that Dad taught her how to fix a customer’s computer over the phone from his hospital bed. He was just concerned that he hadn’t done what he had promised and would leave the guy hanging.
Pun appreciated. I actually started another post entirely and somehow this came out. Every time I tell a story about Dad someone else adds something to it that I didn’t know. I’m always amazed at the influence one person can have. It’s also a challenge to be that kind of person. Thanks for the additional details. Good stuff.