THE GLUE MAN
I was out walking early this morning as the sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon. I had started early for two reasons. First, since it was Sunday, I needed to get in six miles before Sunday School. Second, with the heat coming, waiting too long would have made six miles unlikely.
I downloaded James Patterson’s new book, The Country Road Murders, on Thursday. The next day, Patterson and his collaborator, Mike Lupica, appeared on national television to discuss it. When one commentator said readers would be hooked by the fourth page, that was all I needed to begin listening the very next day.
In Chapter 17, the main character mentions a friend he calls “The Glue Man”—someone who held a group together. That phrase stayed with me for the rest of my walk.
As I kept walking, I began thinking about the people who have served as the glue in my own life. The first person who came to mind was my Mom, who held our extended family together for much of her life.
Another was David Williams, one of my pledge brothers from Sigma Alpha Epsilon at Auburn in 1972. He became the glue man for a close group of friends from those days who remain connected in the best possible way. He was always the first to call. He organized golf outings, often planning them before anyone had time to object.
Here in Auburn, Rob “Hendo” Hendrickson plays that role for my Friday lunch group, made up mostly of Tau Kappa Epsilon men around my age. The group exists largely because of his efforts. He checks on me, and I assume on others, more often than anyone I know. He chooses where we will eat, arranges tee times for those playing golf, and keeps everyone informed. Everyone freely admits that “Hendo” is the glue man who makes this group work.
In another setting, Marvin Thomas, my Sunday School teacher, is another kind of glue man. Along with his wife, Denise, he helps bring together the varied interests of a large and growing group of retirees, both young and not so young. A former professor, he knows how to lead and challenge people at the same time.
Part of Marvin’s gift is that he communicates well and knows how to delegate. In a class full of retirees, there can be plenty of people used to leading, but Marvin is comfortable letting the group shine and share its own talents.
Sometimes, though, the glue holds together not a group, but a friendship between two people. One of my closest high school friends, Jim Dahl, was also my first college roommate. We pledged different fraternities and could never agree whose turn it was to wash the dishes, so we lasted only two quarters together. Still, our friendship has stood the test of time.
Jim is almost always the one who calls first. Over the past decade or so, he has reached out often, and nearly every time I happened to be traveling. I have taken his calls from the beaches of Malibu and from more than one continent. When I called him this past week, his genuine happiness at hearing from me made me wonder why I had not been the one to call more often.
Looking back over these friendships and groups, perhaps that is what defines a true glue man or woman. It is not that no one else could play the same role; it is that the glue person does not wait too long to pick up the phone. They value connection and do not hesitate to make the first call.
A woman in our church in Donalsonville that I very much admired, Emily Miller, once told me that good intentions do not count. I often mean to call someone, only for that person to call first. In the end, the glue person is the one who turns good intentions into action and helps keep the connection alive.
Who in your life has been the glue that kept cherished connections alive?
o0o
Dan Ponder can be reached at [email protected]
