The Measure of a Man

A great man died just a little while ago. His name was Sir Terry Pratchett.

I would consider Pratchett to be among the greatest writers of the 20th century, and potentially all of history – though I am a bit biased.

While he never knew us, he had an unimaginable impact on me and my family.

We discovered his work when I was about 12 or 13. It was a pivotal moment in my life because I was constructing my first world view and his thoughts had a lasting impact. When I came to college last fall I revisited some of my favorites and I was surprised by how much of myself had come from these books without me even realizing it.

The majority of his books can be classified as either comedic fantasies or in depth sociological studies, depending on how you want to read them. Pratchett had the rare gift of making you think without sounding preachy or pretentious. Running under the surface of his hilarious and highly improbable plotlines are deeper meanings about religion, society, and leadership.

So naturally when my mom texted me on March 12, 2015 to tell me that one of my favorite authors had passed after a long struggle with Alzheimer’s I was shocked. I started thinking about his work, and the impact it had had on my life. I wanted to write a tribute, but it has taken me so long to figure out what I want to say.

Several torn up notebook pages and a door covered in post-it notes later I finally came up with this.

I have used that phrase many times over the years. When my life is harder than I thought it was going to be, when I have to give things up for school and my career, when I have to make hard decisions about the future, I think of Tiffany Aching and I say to myself “This I choose.” It is a reminder to myself that no one is making me do this, that this was my idea and my choice.

So many days I have dragged myself out of bed to work on an article or a project. I give up time with friends and family, I talk to complete strangers, I stay up to 1:00 in the morning re-writing a story to suit an editor I really don’t care about. It’s those days I stop myself to look in the mirror and say “This I choose.” I am choosing this lifestyle because I believe that it is important. I by no means need to keep doing this, I could switch to an English major, I could quit school and work at McDonalds. But I’m choosing to stay and part of that choice is the lost quality time, annoying interviews, and late nights.

And while being a young witch in training sounds way cooler than being a journalism student, most of the four Tiffany Aching books are about her figuring out that any job worth doing is a pain in the neck. Witches take care of the old people everyone has forgotten, they birth the baby no one wants, they speak up for those who have no voice, and every so often they get to fight scary monsters. That last one is the only part they ever get any credit for, the rest goes unnoticed.

Tiffany and I learned this valuable lesson together. When you choose one role in society you choose all of it, not just the nice parts, and not just the glamorous parts, all of the parts. “This I choose” don’t mean “This I like”. It means that this is a job which you have taken upon yourself and you will see it through even when you would much rather give up.

“This I choose” is a concept which has gotten me through so much. I recently learned that Pratchett was in the middle of writing another Tiffany Aching book, called the Shepherds Crown. I have no idea how much he was able to complete but I hope they will publish it anyway.

 

For a long time it was a tradition to listen to Terry Pratchett books in the car as a family. The Wee Free Men was our first, and Nation was our last. We listened to it as we drove from our home outside of Seattle to California on our last family vacation. And just as 13 year-old me drew inspiration from Tiffany Aching, 17 year-old me found an instant connection with Mau, the main character from Nation.

Mau finds himself alone on his island home after a terrible tsunami kills everyone he has ever known. But he doesn’t stay alone for long. Survivors from islands all over the ocean soon come flocking to his island, and he eventually becomes the leader of a ragtag community of refugees.

Throughout the book Mau has conversations with his religious representation of “death”.Whenever Mau struggles with the will to live, or tries to save someone else, or questions traditional religion, Death is there.

One of their first conversations takes place when Mau is trying to save a drowning girl. He tells Death that he owes him just this one life after everything that had happened. Death replies that there are no bargains, no should happen or shouldn’t happen. There is simply does and does not happen.

Throughout the rest of the book Mau turns “Does not happen” into a sort of battle cry against Death. There are no bargains – he never says “Please don’t let this happen, it’s not right”. Instead he declares that it won’t happen, taking the power away from Death and controlling the outcome of a situation himself.

Without that fight it would have been easy for Mau to give up. If life is simply fate or chance then there is no reason to try, things will happen no matter what you do so why make an effort? However, “Does not happen” gave Mau something to fight, something to live for. By declaring a war against Death Mau took fate into his own hands and set his mind on one certain outcome.

While I have never stared actual death in the face, I have battled against apathy. So often in journalism it can feel that the rules are arbitrary, that who makes it and who doesn’t is up to chance and an inherent undefinable knack for news. But, if I leave my career up to chance then I will have no career at all. And so whenever I worry about the possibility of a life confided to a job I don’t like, or worse, don’t care about I say to myself “Does not happen.” Because life is not up to chance, it is what you make of it. And if journalism requires an undefinable knack then I will have that knack.

Just like Mau I need something to fight against and a reason to live. I find that in “Does not happen.” No, there aren’t any bargains, things don’t happen because they should. The future isn’t some hazy existence which we have no control over. Our future is what we make of it. Sometimes the fight to get there is overwhelming, but it is still better than laying down and settling. Pratchett taught me to fight, to declare the outcome rather than believe the universe owes it to me.

…

There are many cheesy sayings about “The measure of a man”. We as humans like to make pithy sentences about what separates the average man from a great man. I won’t add to that clamor today, but I will say this: Sir Terry Pratchett shaped so many parts of my life and gave me inspiration which I carry to this day. And that’s got to count for something.