When I was young, my parents used to take my sister and me to an old amusement park in the hills of Pennsylvania during visits to aunts and uncles in the summers. It’s an amusement park, called Knobels, which has been frozen in time. It’s nearing one hundred years old and it has historic rides to go along with its nostalgia. One of oldest rides is its unique carousel. It is one of the largest working carousels in the world, with 63 hand carved horses, made in 1913 in New York and purchased for the park in the 1940’s. This special carousel is one of the last working ones that has a brass ring dispenser. If you are sitting on a horse on the outside row, you can reach out and grab a brass ring from the dispenser as you sail past it. A long time ago, they used to give you a free ride ticket for grabbing a brass ring, as a prize.
I have many
memories of going to Knobels over the years when I was little and now as an
adult, taking my kids there each summer when visiting family. But my most vivid memories are those of my
sister Jennifer, who was (and still is) the master of grabbing the brass
ring. When I was little, Jenn would run
to the outside row of horses as soon as she gave her ticket to the carousel
operator. She was so excited to have the
chance to take a brass ring. When the
ride would start, she would immediately be ready, hanging her whole body out
from her horse, ever so precariously, like she was on the verge of falling off
her horse. She would reach her monkey
arms out as far as she could, and as she passed the apparatus loaded with the
brass rings, she would snag one, almost each time she went around. I would usually be behind her on an outside
horse too.
The first
time she ever got one, I was probably in middle school. She was three years older than me and
taller. I saw her do it the first time
and I thought “I want to get one too.” I
stretched out from my horse just a little, not much, and I reached for a ring
as I approached them. I just couldn’t
reach one. I saw the look of joy on her
face and the effort it took and I wanted to do it too. But the difference between me and her was
that I didn’t think I could do it. I
wanted to, but I wasn’t willing to go out on a limb. I was afraid I’d fall off my horse, and I
told myself I was smaller (I was stunted in growth too from all my surgeries
and illness) and couldn’t quite reach one.
This was my excuse. I was
negative and I told myself I couldn’t do it.
I never thought I was quite good enough to do amazing things and
certainly wasn’t going to go out on a limb trying, unlike my sister.
I envied my
sister’s attitude of “I can do it, I can get a brass ring.” Why couldn’t I grab a brass ring? But what I should have been asking myself was
why wouldn’t I grab a brass ring.
I thought I couldn’t, but I wouldn’t take the risk, so of course I
failed, and on top of it I made excuses for why I didn’t. After all, there were kids my size and even
smaller grabbing brass rings left and right.
It would take me until I was well into my adult years to realize just
how much this very situation impacted my life almost daily. I looked around and saw happy people, living
successfully, making their way through the world grabbing wonderful things all
the time. I thought “why can’t I have
that too.” But I wasn’t looking at
myself and why I wasn’t stretching out and grabbing at life too. I felt like I couldn’t or I shouldn’t. I was used to suffering, feeling low, feeling
less-than, and feeling frankly – screwed over.
I felt cheated
and deprived by God, by life, by my parents, by society, you name it. I was letting my childhood and my disease
affect my life in a painfully negative way.
I thought I didn’t deserve the brass ring, beyond not even being able to
go for it. My disease had made me feel
so small and so insignificant for so many years. The aftermath of my surgeries had left me so
scarred from such things as the pain and the bullying, that I was paralyzed from
self-defeating and negative feelings. I
wasn’t thriving yet. I was letting the
world and my life beat me down. But as I
grew older and wiser, I started to find my voice and I started to see things
just a little brighter.
I didn’t
have to suffer anymore and I didn’t have to hold myself down. The bullies were gone, I didn’t live with my
parents anymore, and nobody was telling me I couldn’t be successful at
life. I was telling myself this. I let all those bad things from my childhood
and my disease infect my head, and I was listening to the ghosts from my
past. I needed to start listening to me
and what I wanted and what I needed to accomplish in life. What is it?
It’s still evolving and developing every day, but since I started
reaching for greater things, I’ve decided - I want to be a loving wife who
deserves her loving husband, a caring mother who deserves to be needed and
loved by her children, and an exceptional person, not just a good one, who
always listens, always lends a helping hand to others, and makes a positive contribution
to the world and the lives of the people she knows.
It is said in a Jewish Midrash teaching, one must do at least three things before they die – plant a tree, write a book, and make an effort to have a child or raise a child. It means you should leave the world a better place than how you came into it. It means you should leave a legacy, an influence on the people around you. My biggest goal in life is to leave this world a better place than how I found it and positively influence the lives of others. I certainly have made my own life better than how it started in my early years. I don’t think I have achieved enough positive effect on other’s lives yet, but I actively work towards it every day. I believe I deserve that and I believe I can do that. I believe I can reach for the brass ring and give it my all and not worry about falling flat on my face anymore, and I believe I deserve to succeed. I only hope I can convince other people the same - that we all deserve and should reach for brass rings, no matter how much is pressing against us. We’re not always going to get them every time around, but if we stretch ourselves out there, we’re going to get it sometimes. And I hope I’m there to see it happen because if I can do it, you can do it.
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