Call to Action

You’re a police officer on duty and are dispatched to a call from a concerned neighbor.  He hasn’t seen his neighbor in a couple days and knows they are elderly and have health issues. 

Check the Well-Being, it’s called. 

You’re thinking is what I’m thinking. 

You make contact with the concerned neighbor.  Same details.  You try calling the unresponsive neighbor’s cell phone.  No response.  They could be out of town. 

Do you really believe that at this point? Or are you hoping that’s the case.

You’re at the front door of the apartment. 

Oh shit. Great. Mail’s piled up. You see a fly.  Then another one on the inside of the front window to the apartment.  You catch a whiff of the feint smell of what I can only describe as “death.”  That pungent decomposition of a human body that fed off the standard American diet their whole life. 

This death talk is almost over.  Stick with me. 

I don’t know how many “Unexplained Deaths” I’ve responded to and at various stages of decomposition from the just died to the writhing body pulsating from the worms growing and feeding within. 

Sorry about that. 

These aren’t crime scenes if they didn’t die from obvious foul play. 

You know why the mail was piling up.  You know why there were flies inside. 

Even if you’ve never smelled that smell you’d know that smell. 

You also know why they weren’t discovered until you knocked on the front door.  You know why one day went by without anyone knowing.  You know why two days went by.  You know why one week went by. 

No ONE checked until it was…too late.

I’m not talking about a passive text or a leaving a voicemail message. 

This is a Call to Action to Check the Well-Being of another. Not only to check if they’re alive. But to check on someone if they’re living while they’re alive.

We’re all alive, but…. I’ll speak for myself; there was a long period of time where I was checking boxes, working, paying bills, eating, sleeping having scripted conversations.

When was the last time someone dug beneath the surface of what you present to the world and genuinely asked and held space for you?

I had a great message back and forth with Maggie Jon about mental health.  I dropped off the ongoing conversation for a day (different time zones). 

I logged in the following day to “You okay?” 

I’m 51.  A retired cop.  Suspected PTSD, neurodivergence. Confirmed O-L-D. An introvert with my head buried in my laptop at a café.  Texts and phone calls startle me.  I love it when people cancel plans. 

You okay? 

No.  I’m not okay.  For a quarter century I’ve only met people in moments of their crisis.  I pretended to be strong when I wasn’t. I’m sleep deprived.  I’m suffering writing my memoir and colliding head on with regrets, humiliation, betrayal.  In hindsight, I hated my career and some of the assholes in it.  I sold out to have a job so I could afford the Target pick up order for eggs, socks and laundry detergent.

You okay? 

Abso-fucking-loutely!   I’m not just okay.  I’m thriving and you’ll know my name when “Flip” debuts this Halloween.  I have survived the worst things life has thrown at me. 

Read that last sentence again.  Read it for yourself.  It’s a true statement. 

And my present (both the moment and gift)?  Glorious.  I’ve found my tribe.  And it’s growing. I’m like the leader of the coolest gang of nerds.

You can do it, too.

Step one: Say/text: “You okay?”

Step two: STFU

Step three: You’re exercising the care and concern you’d want someone to give to you. That makes you a good person. Giving goodness begets goodness. It’s a law.

Check the Well Being on a loved one today. Report back. You have 24 hours.