The Musings Of An Opinionated Sod [Help Me Grow!]

Treasure Your Frank …

This week has been a week of – of me – serious posts.

So maybe it’s because I can’t keep that up for 5 days straight …
Or because Colenso won ‘Agency Of The Year’ last night in NZ …
Or that today would have been my Mum and Dad’s 61st wedding anniversary …
Or – also today – it is my friend, Heleen’s, birthday …

… but I thought I’d end the post on something else entirely.

When I was growing up in Nottingham, there was a busker affectionately known as ‘Xylophone Man’.

Part of the reason for this name was because he actually played a xylophone. The other part was he played it absolutely terribly. But with unbelievable enthusiasm.

If truth be known, all he did was run his mallet the entire length of the notes and then – at the end – he would flamboyantly raise his hand in the air as if he had just performed a concerto to a stadium of adoring fans. He’d do this over and over again … sometimes up the xylophone, sometimes down … but always with his big, toothless smile on his face.

I’d see him every Saturday in town [AKA, Nottingham City Centre], outside C&A … always playing, always happy, rain or shine.

But what is amazing is he was adored by all.

Rich, humble, famous, infamous, families, teens, drunks …

No one gave him any trouble because everyone was captivated by the enthusiasm and happiness he had for what he did and the sound he made.

His name was Frank, and when he died in 2004, the city got together to honor him … not just paying for his funeral, but also contributing to a plaque to commemorate who he was, what he did and where he did it.

Because what he gave us was far more than some xylophone ‘tunes’.

He gave the people of the city a common connection …
A way for us to step out of our lives and into our community …
A moment to bond, to smile, to laugh, to clap, to cheer. Both at the beauty of life and the absurdity of it.

And I think that’s what Frank liked the most. Being seen for who he was rather than being ignored because of who he wasn’t.

There’s a million different sort of Frank’s in this world.

Some may be in your office.
Some may even be part of your family.
But basically, they’re individuals who are happy with who they are and don’t aspire to be anything more than that.

And the funny thing is, while a lot of society often regard these people as lacking drive, value or ambition, I am increasingly of the opinion they’re the one’s who have got life worked out the best.

Because they appreciate what they have.
They enjoy and value what they do.
And they never waste their time, energy or emotions chasing things that only matter to those who spend too most of their life hiding who they are.

Writing this post, I found an old interview with Frank – and I have to say, he sounds exactly the same way as he played.

Eccentric.
Endearing.
Amusing.

The Frank’s of this world matter.

They remind us of what’s important.
They connect us to where we’re from.
The help define who we are.

At a time where we are surrounded – and as a byproduct, encouraged – to engage in ‘professional bravado’, the Frank’s of this World have, arguably, never been so important.

To remind us experience, trumps popularity.
That fulfillment, beats job titles.
And substance, smokes speed.

And while many may discount or ignore them the Frank’s of this world, it’s worth remembering he got a city commemorating him, whereas most of us are lucky if an ex-collegaue occasionally emails us.

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