shift

So you can fly? So what? So can I . . . uh, I mean . . .

I got to thinking about my last post. Why is it that we resonate with B.B. so much? Is it that he’s superhuman? More than fifty albums and a gazillion hits is pretty herculean.

But, no. That’s not it. If he were superhuman, we wouldn’t be able to relate to him. That’d be like saying, “I love Superman because I can fly.” But we can’t fly. In fact, the only reason Superman works is because he’s actually Clark Kent, and Clark has his downfalls, too.

The best villains are those we feel sorry for, and the best heroes are people just like me and just like you.

And that, I think, is our clue.

B.B. had a talent. As a kid, he had rhythm. He had rhyme. He had a voice. And, most importantly, he had a song. His song was his passion, and it was his passion that carried him through. Eighty-seven years and he’s still singin’ and playin’ his heart out. And he’s loving every minute of it.

Clark Kent’s a goober—just like me and you (images: borg.com)

And that, I think, is our second clue.

Everyone has a talent. Some of us have a few. B.B.’s was music. Michael Jordan‘s was sports. Einstein‘s was science. Shakespeare‘s was words . . . Clark Kent could fly. Monet could paint. Tom Hanks could act . . . You can _____. I can _____.

The people the world remembers are those who had a talent and went for it with everything they had. They went for it because they loved it. And because they loved it, people loved them. Their talent had become their gift: the world was a better place because of them.

Can you imagine a world where everyone was doing what they loved?

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