this i believe
On November 17, 2000 Bill Gardiner died in a cycling accident while commuting home from work, he was 67 years old. On the day that he died, I didn’t even know his name. A decade later he still comes to mind when I think about the kind of person that I want to be. It was months after his death, which I had heard about on the news, before I was able to connect his name, and his fate, with the familiar face that I had come to miss in the hallways at work. Bill and I had just one interaction, repeated many times. I would greet Bill with a standard ‘how’s it going?’ and he would shoot me a toothy grin and say, ”I struggle. How about you?” What was clear about Bill’s struggle, just from the way he said it, was that it was both a joy and a duty. It was his definition of his own life, his way of laying claim to it, and every day he both invited you and challenged you to join in. It was offered like an invitation to a celebration. It was issued like a challenge to live up to your own high