Sleeping Giants

by Nathan Mellor

  He stated later, “I was hit in the chest, and the bullet went into the lung, liver, and diaphragm. The common picture shows me grabbing my abdomen, but that’s down where the liver was when it went through the liver. That’s where the pain was at the time, but actually, I was shot in the chest.”8

  In a later interview, McCarthy echoed Agent Parr’s explanation about how he was able to respond in the face of danger. He said, “In the Secret Service, we’re trained to cover and evacuate the president. And to cover the president, you have to get as large as you can, rather than hitting the deck. So I have to say people have asked me, and I said quite frankly, it probably had little to do with bravery and an awful lot to do with the reaction based upon the training.”9

  As Agent McCarthy moved back to stand in the way of bullet four, Agent Jerry Parr had already grabbed the president and was forcibly pushing him into the limousine. The two were nearly in the car when the fifth shot hit the bulletproof window of the open door. The bullet cracked the glass, but the window held.

  The sixth shot hit the limousine as Parr, who was draped over the president in an effort to shield him, landed hard in the back of the car. Amazingly, the bullet, which had ricocheted off the car, flew through the gap between the A-frame pillar of the car and the open door. The bullet, which had flattened like a dime when it hit the car, struck the president on his left side near his underarm. A fraction of a second earlier, the bullet would have hit the president in the head. Instead, it hit a rib, which was broken by the impact, and then traveled through the lung and caused a partial collapse. It finally came to rest less than an inch from Reagan’s heart.

  As the presidential limousine sped away toward the safety of the White House, both Parr and Reagan were unaware that Reagan had been hit. Parr quickly examined Reagan, but he could not find evidence of a wound. He said:

  What made me change the course was that there was a profuse amount of blood coming out of his mouth, and I knew [this was bad] from the training I had in a 10-minute medicine course. I thought maybe I broke a rib when I came down on top of him. So I spoke to the president, and I said, “I’m taking you to the hospital,” and he basically agreed with me. He said OK, and he nodded or something. His blood worried me, and his demeanor worried me, though I have often said he was perfectly lucid during the whole ride.10

  Agent Parr ordered that the limo be redirected to the nearby George Washington University Hospital. According to the doctors responsible for saving his life, this quick decision was the reason Reagan would survive. Mrs. Reagan would later comment, “If Jerry hadn’t made the change, I wouldn’t have a husband.”11

  INSPIRED ROLES

  An interesting side note is that Jerry Parr’s interest in the Secret Service began after he watched the 1939 movie Code of the Secret Service, which starred Ronald Reagan as Agent “Brass” Bancroft. Parr was 9 years old when he “gripped his father’s arm as Brass survived one cliff-hanging moment after another, one narrow escape after another, before finally beating the bad guys and winning the girl. As he left the theater that night, young Jerry thought, I want to be a lifesaver, too!”12

  On Monday, March 30, 1981, Parr was playing the part he chose to play in life. His childhood had been tough due to instability at home. His father was an alcoholic, and his mother divorced him. She married twice more, but both men proved to be violent. The family would end up moving often, which made Jack the target of bullies. In response to the turmoil, he learned he could either be a victim to his circumstances or he could make his own way.13 He chose to become the very person he wished would have intervened in his life.

  Interestingly, Ronald Reagan was playing a part he had chosen as well. He too was the son of an alcoholic and had moved often as a child. At 10 or 11 years old he picked up the book That Printer of Udell’s, written by Harold Bell Wright, that changed his life. In a 1984 letter sent to Wright’s daughter-in-law, he described the impact of the book. He stated, “The term ‘role model,’ was not a familiar term in that time and place, but looking back, I know that I had found a role model in that traveling printer Harold Bell Wright had brought to life. He set me on a course I’ve tried to follow even unto this day. I shall always be grateful.”14

  That Printer of Udell’s is primarily about Dick Falkner. Subjected to extreme poverty and a physically abusive father, he ran away from his dire situation in the hope of finding a better future. Homeless and destitute, he arrives in the Midwestern town of Boyd City. He reasoned that the Christians in the town would show him compassion and that he would not go hungry. He was disappointed when the church members appeared disinterested in helping him. When he found an opportunity to work for a local printer named Udell, he was determined to make the most of it.

  In time, both Udell and Falkner would come to faith and become Christians. Falkner found he could use his plainspoken oratory skills and a positive outlook on life for the benefit of others. He called upon his fellow citizens to do what was right and to fight against evil. Through his persuasive efforts, he became recognized as a community leader. The book concludes with the young man who came from a challenging background leaving the Midwest on his way to making a difference in Washington, D.C.

  Reagan decided to be like Falkner. He developed his skills as a speaker, learned to use stories and humor to connect with others, and determined to adopt a positive outlook on life. Not only can this learned approach to life be seen throughout his career, but it can also be seen very clearly in how he responded when his life was in danger.

  He was not acting like someone he was not. He had chosen to act like the person he wished to be. Much like Parr had been trained to respond to danger by the Secret Service, Reagan had trained himself how to respond to life’s challenges. He was not going to allow himself to be a victim. He was going to respond. TIME Magazine compiled a handful of Reagan’s quips following the assassination attempt. Below are a few that capture Reagan’s attempt to maintain control in a situation in which he had none. He was continually aware that, as a leader, he had a role to fill, and after years of training, he responded with a level of grace and confidence that even his critics had to admire. The article quotes:

  To surgeons, as he entered the operating room, “Please tell me you’re Republicans.”

  In a note written while surrounded by medical staff, “If I had this much attention in Hollywood, I’d have stayed there.”

  To an attentive nurse, “Does Nancy know about us?”

  To daughter Maureen, the attempted assassination “ruined one of my best suits.”

  Greeting White House aides the morning after surgery, “Hi, fellas. I knew it would be too much to hope that we could skip a staff meeting.”

  When told by Aide Lyn Nofziger that the government was running normally, “What makes you think I’d be happy about that?”15

  I am inspired by actions of the Secret Service agents who served at the president’s side that day, the response of the medical professionals who attended to those injured, and by the attitude of the president in his recovery. It is a testament to the will and training of everyone involved that they demonstrated such bravery and professionalism in the face of a life-threatening crisis. It is also a reminder that how we choose to think and the behaviors that are reinforced can, in time, override our natural response in favor of the one we choose.

  REMAPPING

  To be effective in a time of crisis, the Secret Service agents who saved the life of President Reagan chose to respond to danger in a way that is very different from the response that would normally be anticipated. To react in the way they did required significant training—to be able to exchange one way of thinking for another. Doing so meant remapping their brains to override the natural instinct for self-preservation. The discipline needed to accomplish this goal is staggering, but it provides a real-life example of how it can be done.

  In addition to the Secret Service, President Reagan
had also chosen to develop his brain in a way that was equally important to reach his goals. At every phase of his life, as a lifeguard, an actor, a governor, and as president, he cultivated his ability to step into the role he needed to play. He intentionally shaped his mental model to fit the image of the leader that he discovered as a young boy reading That Printer of Udell’s.

  At any point in your life, you can choose to think differently. Doing so is challenging and difficult, but with intentionality and practice, you can remap your brain to learn in new ways. You are never too old to chart a new course and learn new things. In fact, pushing yourself to consider a new perspectives and to force your brain to work in new ways can help significantly in keeping your brain sharp and flexible throughout your lifetime.

  What areas of life would you like to explore, but have considered yourself too old or too set in your ways to pursue? (For example, playing the piano, learning a foreign language, learning to paint, etc.)

  If the statement, “I am set in my ways and can’t learn new ways of doing things” does not have to be true, in what areas of your life would you like to see improvement?

  Part FOUR

  A New Life

  Chapter 12

  “The Songbooks at the Church”

  Small Moments Matter

  I was grateful for the opportunity to travel to Marietta, Ohio, to see my grandmother a few months before her passing. When I climbed the back steps of her home and opened the door into her small kitchen, I was instantly filled with emotion. We normally saw her at special events like graduations and weddings or when she would come to visit during the holidays. When I had moved to California for graduate school, there had been a gap in our visits, and I knew that she had wanted to see her family, especially her great-grandchildren, more.

  As I stood in her kitchen, I looked at the small table where I sometimes ate breakfast as a child. One of the last times I had sat at this table was with my dad, my uncle, and my granddad. I did not see my uncle often, and the gathering was made all the more meaningful to me as it was the first time in my life that I had been invited to join in a meal with them as an adult. My grandfather was in poor health at the time, but I did not realize it would be the last time that I would see him or my uncle. Granddad died on Friday, August 4, 1995. My grandmother’s grief was compounded when my uncle was killed in a motorcycle accident 11 days later on Tuesday, August 15, 1995. With the sun in her eyes, a motorist driving a pick-up truck did not see him as he rode down the highway toward her. She tragically pulled out directly in his path, and he died on the scene.

  My grandmother seemed much smaller than she had the last time I stood in her kitchen. She had lost weight, and her white hair had thinned considerably. Although her heart was failing, her mind remained remarkably sharp. Her heart trouble was related to her valves, which meant the heart was not pumping efficiently, and, due to her age, there was nothing that could be done to prolong her life. As a result of her condition, she moved slowly, and it took a great deal of effort to complete tasks that would have been routine in recent years.

  Family and friends had been on notice that she would likely pass away soon. Although it is always a shock to hear a loved one has died, it was something we expected. A few minutes after noon on Monday, March 22, 2010, she quietly passed away. She had decided that she wanted the memorial service to be held the day after her passing. Those who were able to do so scrambled to find a way to get to Marietta in time for the 2:30 p.m. service on Tuesday. It was held indoors in a small mausoleum at East Lawn Memorial Park on the edge of town. On the day of her memorial, the thermometer never rose above 44 degrees, it rained, and there was a steady breeze.1

  When someone lives for a long time, especially when they have been ill for a prolonged period, they will often have a very small crowd at their memorial service. The size of the crowd is not necessarily indicative of the impact they had in life but is more often than not a recognition they outlived their friends and loved ones. Considering grandma’s obituary had only been in the paper for a few hours before her service, we were not expecting many in attendance. Therefore, it was a pleasant surprise to see so many people file in to offer their respects.

  A TREASURE TROVE

  After the funeral, we gathered back at grandma’s house. Over the next day or two, we packed up family photos, mementos, and any important documents that did not need to be left in an empty home while dad made arrangements for its sale. Before her passing, grandma had either given away or designated most of the things she thought might be meaningful to friends and family. I doubt she owned any one item that was worth more than a few hundred dollars. It was humbling to consider how generous she and granddad had been over the years with birthday and Christmas gifts. What mostly remained now were pieces of furniture and personal items that had not been thrown away.

  My grandparents’ home had been built in 1900, and its 1,320 square feet consisted of two floors and a basement. The living room and the kitchen were on the first floor. A half bath had been added when granddad had gotten sick, and the sitting room downstairs had been converted into a bedroom. On the second floor, there were two bedrooms and a full bathroom.

  In my grandparent’s second story bedroom was a bedroom suite, their bed, and two antique wooden trunks. The floors in the upstairs bedrooms were painted wood. The trunks were full and would have been too heavy to move easily. Consequently they had sat in the same spot for decades. Grandma considered them to be family heirlooms and a direct connection to our past, although it was not entirely clear which family members had owned them or in what era they might have been used.

  The first trunk was a flattop steamer. It was sturdy and made to withstand abuse. Even when it was empty, it was heavy. When we opened the trunk, we were surprised by its contents. She had saved every single handwritten thank you note and special-occasion card she had ever received throughout her lifetime. She treasured them and had dutifully collected them for years.

  The second trunk was a dome-top trunk of seemingly equal age. Inside the trunk was an upholstered tray, which held a few letters and small items. Beneath the tray, we found the trunk had been carefully filled with old photographs and documents, a few items of clothing, and other odds and ends that had been preserved for their sentimental value. We put the tray back into the trunk and carried it downstairs to be taken to my parent’s home for safekeeping.

  Later when I was at my parent’s home, I asked to go through the items in the dome-top trunk. I removed the tray that was resting inside the trunk and began sorting through the next few layers. The contents were a time capsule for our family. Among the treasures, which would not have meant much to others, but were extremely valuable to us, was a colorized photo of my granddad on the Marietta High School football team in 1939. Another was a certificate stating he had earned his high school letter in football. Finally, we found his football pants that he had last worn 70 years earlier.

  My grandfather was among the many veterans who took home war trophies and mementos from World War II. In addition to an Arisaka Type 99 rifle and bayonet, he also brought home a Japanese samurai sword. I knew of these items, and, amazingly, as children, my brother and I would play with the gun, with the firing pin removed, around the house and in the backyard. It never crossed our minds that it might have been unsettling for granddad to see his grandchildren running around “playing war” with a rifle he brought home from a very real war.

  Searching deeper, I found mementos from WWII that neither my father nor I had ever seen before. They were small items that appeared to have been possessions of Japanese soldiers. Along with the artifacts was a handwritten letter of explanation left behind for posterity by grandma. Written in her distinctive cursive, she stated that she and granddad had tried to return the personal effects to the Japanese government, but they were told that it was not possible to do so. It was clear my grandparents did not know what to do with them, so they pl
aced them carefully in the trunk. Much like granddad’s memories from the war, these items were purposefully tucked away. His memories and those artifacts remained a part of his life, but once stored away, neither would ever see the light of day during his lifetime.

  Another item that caught my attention was a document on thick parchment paper that was rolled up like a scroll. When I picked up the scroll, I was surprised by how heavy it felt in my hands. I took it over to the nearby bed to examine it. It was in the early afternoon, and the light from the windows was plenty to see the paper clearly. I carefully rolled it out to reveal what was written on the document.

  The words that emerged were printed in the traditional blackletter style. The document was a high school diploma, and once unrolled, the thick paper was 18 inches tall and 2 feet wide. Affixed vertically along the left side of the diploma was a yellow satin ribbon that was about a foot long and an inch wide. On the ribbon was placed a gold seal with the words, “Board of Education Marietta Ohio” embossed in a circle. The diploma stated, “This certifies that C. Ben Mellor having completed the English Course of Study prescribed by the Board of Education is hereby declared a Graduate of the Marietta High School and is awarded this Diploma as an honorable testimonial of the excellence of his character and scholarship. Dated, Marietta, Ohio, June 5, 1908.”

  The diploma was my great-grandfather’s. Benjamin Charles Mellor was 19 years old when he had earned it. It was an especially meaningful find, as this document is the only possession of his that has survived. It was also significant that he had graduated from high school, considering this was not the norm at the time. Although the number of high school graduates would steadily increase through the first half of the 20th century, the percentage of 17-year-olds graduating from high school in 1899-1900 was just 6.4%. A decade later, 1909-1910, the number had grown to 8.8%.2 It would not be until 1940 that the number of high school graduates would exceed 50%.3