Things In A Box By Matthew Watchman

Things In A Box By Matthew Watchman

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Things In A Box By Matthew Watchman
Things In A Box By Matthew Watchman
Reflections on growth, change and a man named Stewart
Conversations with Jesus

Reflections on growth, change and a man named Stewart

"You ain't that thing no more, what you used to was" - Danny Santos

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Matthew Watchman
Aug 29, 2024
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Things In A Box By Matthew Watchman
Things In A Box By Matthew Watchman
Reflections on growth, change and a man named Stewart
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Matthew:

Hey Jesus, I have been thinking.

Generally speaking, I think quite a bit about a myriad number of things but today felt more focused, as if I was caught in a daydream that I was a part of but somehow watching from a distance at the same time.

My thoughts settled on a man named Stewart, the janitor at my secondary school. It’s a memory that you clearly want me to remember because it’s super random and I haven’t thought about him or that time in at least 20 years. I hope he’s doing well wherever he is. The truth is, he’ll never know the impact he had on me. Even I didn’t fully understand it until I started to revisit these memories.

I didn’t have many male role models growing up, at least not many that were a good influence. But I remember Stewart. I remember Stewart teaching me to stand up for myself. I remember getting into an argument with someone, and he called me a ‘nigger’ from a distance and then took off. Stewart fetched him back, had us face to face, and told the boy, “Say it to his face.” The boy couldn’t say it. After he left, Stewart turned to me and said, “If you can’t say something to someone’s face, then don’t say it at all.” That stuck with me ever since. It’s probably part of why I’ve found it hard to back down from a fight. He also taught me that I don’t have to say I like something if I don’t.

I remember his lanky blonde hair, crooked teeth, darting grey eyes, and quiet East End accent. Looking back, I think there was a quiet dignity to his work. He came in every day like clockwork and was proud of his job. He was fair with everyone who spoke to him and never afraid to call someone out on their B.S.

I didn’t know him outside of school, and I only knew him for a year, but to me, he was a man’s man.

This now has me thinking about what sort of man I am. I haven’t always been a good man, and I’ve spent many years being hard-headed. I’ve also been a desperate man, willing to do almost anything for a quick buck or an edge. I’ve also been a pathological liar, willing to tell any story to my advantage while branding it as street-smart. I’ve always enjoyed a good fight (not anymore, obviously), but I remember the first time I got the life kicked out of me at 13 by three older kids. I realized that I wasn’t made of glass but that I was tough as nails because I hadn’t backed down simply because they were bigger. That was my first of many fights.

I’ve also been an addict, with a brain addled by drugs and porn. I’ve spent many years being entirely driven by lust, willing to sleep with anyone who even looked remotely attractive to me. I’ve also been a thief. If I remember correctly, I started my first business with a series of lunchtime robberies, cleaning out the pockets of unsuspecting victims to build my ‘empire.’ I have also been remorseless, never thinking twice about anyone else or the consequences of any action taken.

In between all this, I’ve also been a lover and sometime romantic, an avid reader, and a writer/chain smoker/whisky drinker. An adventurer (what other madman would take someone to a graveyard for a first date in Benin City, of all places), and for some reason, a person who speaks in both movie references and 90s cultural references (Jemima might be fed up with this as she was confused as to why I would even know what a didgeridoo was).

Looking back, I have been a man of many hats and many faces.

And yet today, it seems that I am none of these things. In the words of Danny Santos from True Detective season two with a slight edit from me —"I ain't that thing no more, that I used to was."

Now, I’m a completely different man from the person I was, and sometimes, I wonder (yes, I know much of it is your work) how I even got here. How I even came to become the type of person that you—BIG YOU—could trust with stuff. How I went from all that to, well—this.

With that in mind, can I ask you what kind of man you see me as? I honestly didn’t know it was important to me until I asked you at this moment.

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