On Monday, I took a train ride to DC for a funeral. The man in question is the late father of my non-blood brother, Scott. We’ve known each other since high school and he remains one of my oldest and most trusted friends.
His dad was another Scott, but his first name was actually Marvin (or to me, “Marv” to his utter delight.) Whilst in school, Marv had believed that I was the bad influence on his oldest son and only later discovered that while he wasn’t wrong, he also wasn’t exactly correct. He had viewed me as such until, for whatever reason, he greeted me with open arms at one of his youngest daughter’s games-I think basketball-and smiled broadly and exclaimed “NELS!”
No one had ever addressed me as such, nor had anyone ever appeared that happy to see me. Ever. It was so endearing that I rushed to meet him, smiling as well and shouted “MARV!”
He hugged me hard and affectionately and we were tight from that day forward.
At his funeral, I learned a few things about him I was unaware of that I would like to share.
Marv was a graduate of West Point. An old friend of mine had gone there and knew from him that it was not only a difficult school to get into, but one that is difficult to stay enrolled in there. Marv then remained in the Army for an additional eight years. Marv was an Army helicopter pilot and was a captain. All of that I knew, but what I didn’t know was that he remained a captain so he could continue to fly.
This is the very same advice that Captain James T Kirk of the Starship Enterprise gave to Capt. Jean-Luc Picard which was “Don’t let them promote you. Don’t let them transfer you. Don’t let them do anything that takes you off the bridge of that ship.” Marv could have advanced and should have advanced, but the guy just wanted to fly. That’s awesome.
Marv had jobs at several aeronautical companies (including one with his future daughter in law!) but eventually switched gears and became a high school math teacher. His military mind for structure and discipline probably aided in this career change, but from what I understand, he was quite a good math teacher. (More power to whomever believes this. Math, as you may know is my Kryptonite.)
He was a stout and smallish guy; he looked like somebody’s dad in other words. His taller son however remains unable to deny his genes. You can spot this lineage from space on his grandchildren as well.
Upon the birth of my first kid, Marv asked if I had cried. I smiled and said yes.
“Good man, Nels. Good man.” He said, beaming that giant smile he only pulled out for special occasions. I am very glad I got to see as much of it as I have. He even held the kid for a bit. Marv did love him some babies.
I hadn’t seen Marv in at least a decade or maybe more; I believe it was at the baptism of his grandson Cormac (my Godson) over 12 years ago (as the kid is now a surly thirteen-year-old.)
Marv passed away a year and a half ago. He went quickly from what I am told. I am sorry I didn’t get to see him at least once before he died, but I am also glad I didn’t see him like that either. It’s never anything someone should have to see and I am glad to have at least fun stories of Marv.
He was interred at Arlington Cemetery; an honored place for those who served our country. The sheer weight of this place in our country at the best of times is not lost on me. It was humbling to me, and is heavier now in a way that deserves processing.
I extend my sympathies to all who knew and loved Marv, to his children, Scott, Eilssa and Kristina, their spouses and their children, and to Marv’s second wife Rori (affectionately called “The Spy who Loved Marv”).
There are loads of fun Marv stories and a lot of not-so-fun stories. No one goes out clean, after all. There are things we can’t know and won’t know ever until either later, or never. That is a very stark truth, but all you have in the end is what you choose to take with you out of what was left for you. The good news is that it can be whatever you choose to be. Something good or something bad.
We do not always take the right thing, but the good news is that sometimes, we can take the right thing eventually. Nothing is forever, not even our perspective. It’s all malleable as we need it to be.
Take what you need and what serves you best. The best way to honor someone is to honor yourself and your feelings. Honor those who came before by being your best version of you but also remember, the weight you carry from anything only gets heavier the longer you live if it doesn’t serve you. If it doesn’t serve you, it isn’t good. But you can put it down at any time.
As you should.
Marv wasn’t perfect, but he built a pretty good legacy. They all have names and if you’re lucky, they will show you who they are because of who they were to Marvin Scott Self.
Small addendum: Marv’s dad’s full name was Scott Asbury Self Jr.
Asbury!
According to what I was told, Scott Jr. didn’t want to hang a name like Asbury on his kid, so he hilariously gave his son the name “Marvin” in lieu. In retaliation, Marv named his son Scott Thomas Self. And the only way that name could have been more Irish, was to name the next generation Cormac Scott Self.
No Responses