“A tragedy is a representation of an action that is whole and complete and of a certain magnitude. A whole is what has a beginning and middle and end.” -Aristotle

‘If there is no struggle, there is no progress. ‘-Frederick Douglas

Sterling Gray was a long time friend of my pops. He was a large and gregarious guy who used to come up catch up with my father and us in DC.  Nicknamed ‘Bear’ by those who knew him, he was a real old school throwback to the black southern gentleman with a boisterous, deafening laugh that was infectious. He and my pops were real tight and whenever Sterling was in town it was guaranteed rowdiness and laughter. Good times and good stories. One of the highest appellate judges in his state, he had a son along with a gorgeous wife. He had money, influence, power within his community and his work environment. Looking from the outside the guy had all his shit together in a life that had it all. You know what I’m saying? The Midas touch live and in person.

I was around 16 or 17 then. My parents had made their visiting tour of splitsville a long road back and my sis and I were living with my pops and my stepmoms. My father was working way up in one of the largest and most prestigious legal firms in Washington D.C. making money hand over fist; gobs of it. The house we were living in was beyond amazing. So far beyond that it bordered on ridiculous. Situated in an affluent N.W. neighborhood of Washington DC it had 3 levels, 4 bathrooms, and 5 or 6 bedrooms depending on how you laid it out. My bedroom was more incredible than anything any teenager should legally be allowed to live in. It had a separate entrance and sat out over a wooded area of Rock Creek Park. Those woods put me at ease. When winter would roll through I’d stare out, watch the snow fall. As it stacked up on the trees in the quiet of night I gained respite and peace from my fears. I used to sit in that room and draw away whatever troubles I had: my parents divorce, trepidation over impending college. High school bullshit and drama. What my future held for me.

It’s winter that year and all of a sudden my pops wasn’t himself. If you hadn’t known him you would never be able to tell. But one night I knew. He was different, preoccupied. His mind was elsewhere. I knew he’d been talking to Sterling Gray on the phone a lot lately. A lot. Often at late hours in the night. It went on like that for a little while, back and forth. Then one day, just like that, my pops was different.

I don’t remember who told me what happened and I guess it’s not important at this point.

Since I’d seen him last Sterling’s perfect life had unraveled something awful. He’d been indicted on charges of bribery and was looking at being arrested along with possible jail time. You can imagine the scale and fallout of something like that if you’re a high ranking appellate judge. The charges were, as far as I know, unsubstantiated and circumstantial. No hard evidence produced and he was a black high-ranking judge married to a white woman in a state not traditionally known for outstanding racial tolerance. The pressure took its toll. His marriage fell apart. From what my pops told me, there were a lot of decent ways and procedures to deal with those kinds of charges according to a person of his stature within the community. Ways and procedures that did not include showing up at his mansion in the late night hours with camera crews in tow to arrest him. You have that happen to you and even if you’re cleared of the charges your career as a judge is effectively over. He made bail. I guess he had a scheduled court date and appearance for the laying of charges, but that day never came around. It never came around because before it could Sterling Gray took a loaded shotgun and used it to murder his estranged wife before killing himself.

Not too long after that, not too long after that winter evening when my father seemed different, things for him changed a lot. He resigned from the elite law firm and the luxuries that came with it. He walked away from the money. It wasn’t too long after Sterling’s suicide that he started talking to that Vietnam vet that I mentioned in that post a while back. He changed a lot of things. Years later we came upon the subject and I asked him why. He told me that he looked at Sterling and realized that he was headed down the same road. Not the same circumstances, but the same road. Working this high-pressure job for money and accolades in order to maintain a life that wasn’t healthy. Not talking, and not talking about Vietnam. Bottled emotions and stress. He said that he became certain that if he kept going he’d end up in the grave just like his friend.

I’ve been thinking a lot about Sterling Gray lately, as I get on in years. Back then I didn’t think that much of it, I was too far removed and I was really more concerned about my father. But these days I look back on it and I realize that situation and end result held a slew of life lessons that wouldn’t reveal themselves to me until I was wise enough to see them. Because I learned a lot from both Sterling and my father.

From Sterling I learned how the life you think you may want, getting it, might be the worst thing to ever befall you in the long run. I learned the dangers of propping up a certain life at the expense of oneself and the dangers of what we will go through in order to maintain the illusion. The danger of placing too much emphasis on how others may perceive us and giving too much consideration to what they may think of how we live our lives. Unyielding attachment to anything no matter how trivial can ruin a life.

From my father I learned the ability to take stock of where one is going with his or her life. To really look at it and decide whether or not if it is of benefit. Whether it will ultimately lead to something beneficial or detrimental in terms of your longevity, sense of peace, purpose, and your state of mind. That your soul is worth a lot more than money in the bank. And I learned a deeper level of courage from his willingness to walk away from the bells and whistles in order to seek something better, to address where he needed help and to seek it out.

It’s a valuable lesson.

Image: Robert Motherwell©®™