There are few men who could make such an impact with so few words as Charles Bryant. To everyone who knew him, this sentiment was known as truth. Charles could always be seen as a man who was fully present, intently listening, and kindly connecting. What he did not do, was fill space with useless or unnecessary words. In more experiences than I can count, I witnessed this gentle man sit through the rumblings of opinion, claims of experience, and sometimes heated or passionate discussion, as if he was respectfully withholding from the conversation. He sat quietly, but intently, legs crossed at the ankles, hands clasped on his belly, sometimes a stoic and engaged blanket of expression, an occasional grin or laugh. And, then, it happened. From the stoic silence comes a few sentences, but what could arguably be profound. With only a few words, Charles could sum up the conversation, add purpose to it, and/or offer insight that could and should be noted in one's guide book for living.
Many knew Charles as a respected community member, a devoted elder in his church, a small town family man, but most notably - a friend. Regrettably, I only barely broached the surface of getting to know him - something I've discovered to be true about many people in my life, and something I'm actively and intentionally making an effort to improve. Charles was best known to me as my granddad (paternal). My dad would tell me stories of growing up with Charles as his father. As in many southern households of that time - get out of line, and a firm hand would swiftly guide your step back toward said line. "Spare the rod, spoil the child" was not taken lightly. Make no mistake, my grandfather was respected by his four boys and most, if not all, who knew him. The firm hand on my dad's and uncles' bottoms was an intervention reserved for a certain threshold of behavior that manifested as disrespect, dangerous defiance, or blatant disregard; a threshold with which my father and his brothers were allegedly familiar during their curious and experimenting years of development. To hear them recall their childhoods was to hear a great amount of respect for the man who taught them to be strong, responsible, loyal, and honest. My dad would be the first to admit, he and his brothers did not always heed these lessons offered by my grandfather, but acknowledge that the men they mean to be was certainly shaped by them. My most vivid memory of my grandfather is the firm enveloping hugs he gave. As a young child, I remember feeling like the breath would be squeezed right out of me if the hug lasted a second longer. As I grew up, I came to appreciate that full embrace. This was an embrace of love, and expression to show just how much he cared.
Charles was a mechanical engineer for General Motors by trade, a master gardener by hobby and interest, and reliable Mr. Fix-it. My grandmother would argue the degree of reliability of his "fix-it" mastery. I only saw all the things he built from scratch, repaired, maintained, and somehow just knew what to do with. She saw those, as well as the failed attempts that added to a collection of incomplete projects, or what was endearingly referred to as "junk." Until his last days on this Earth, Charles Bryant had no qualms about rolling up his sleeves and getting to work. For him, there was no room for reliance upon someone else to do what could or should be done by him. Why pay someone else, when I can do it? This is a trait that passed down to my dad, and on to me. I don't even know how I figure some things out, but by God, I'm not leaving it until I do; or until I do it well enough to serve its purpose. I've learned in my own experience that walking away to invite the pros into the job can also be a very effective method.
To speak of a gentleman, I haven't met many people more devoted to their partner, their faith, and whatever they commit to, than this man. Through his own actions, he showed me how impactful and meaningful attentive silence can be. No matter how much shit was thrown his way, whether criticism for not doing something well enough, or political disagreement, I never saw him get angry. That's not to say he wasn't a participant in the emotion; I imagine he knew anger as well as anyone. My amazement and respect is toward his ability to navigate it in a way that did not manifest as lashing out, blaming, insulting, or harming someone. In fact, I recall, as a teenager, unloading on my grandmother via raised voice, expressing my dislike for something she thought I should appreciate. He simply looked at me and slightly adjusted his brow. I immediately responded with an apology to my grandmother, and a more meaningful and expressive account of what I was trying to say. My response was not out of fear for his assertion of power, not out of acceptance of his authority as a patriarch, nor out of any avoidance of vulnerability. Instead, I instantly became aware of my respect for these two individuals, and my overreaction; all through a subtle gesture from the foundation of a man who embodied mutual respect.
Through Charles Bryant, and other men who will be featured on this spotlight over time, I have learned that being a man is not about power, status, or even anatomy. Being biologically male is to have a penis. Being a man, is something much more. I've also learned that I, nor any other man, need to replicate notable men who came before us. That would be inauthentic. Instead, through experiences with men from various walks of life, I understand and embrace the notion that a man is part identity, part intention, and part action. My perception of manly or masculinity has evolved from the roots planted by my elders. It has welcomed new experience, learning, acceptance of differences I may or may not understand, and compassion for others who may not look or sound like me, but are no more or less manly than I. Welcome to this monthly spotlight, and I look forward to reading and sharing your stories of men who have shaped your life and experiences.
This post was originally written in 2020, and has been edited to reflect the time of this site's launch.
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