I sat mere inches from his feet as he sang to me. His wrinkled skin was elegant, his worn out hands were a relic. Buck O'Neil was singing to me.
O'Neil died Friday night. It caught me off-guard. The world lost a great man. He was 94.
When someone asks me about the most important person I'd ever touched, I would say my mother. Buck told me to say it.
When someone asks me about the most important speech I'd ever attended, I would say my graduation speech. Buck told me graduating from school holds incredible value.
But when someone asks me about the most beautiful voice I'd ever heard, I'll tell them about Buck O'Neil. I'll tell them about the time he made eye-contact with me through his sunglasses and sang, "The greatest thing ... in all my life ... is loving you..."
He sang to me, and just me. He sang me this song as I looked up at him like he was a grandfather. I was convinced that the greatest thing in Buck's life was loving me.
But he's taught this song to thousands of people. Thousands of people have sang this song in unison. When Buck finally made it onto TV with this song, I was jealous. I liked the feeling of feeling loved, but now, I felt like it was just a song he sang to make people engage in his speech. I felt like I had been betrayed.
Yet betrayal is for the selfish, and O'Neil was not selfish. He was denied everything he ever wanted in life, so when he grew older, he worked to make sure no one else was ever denied their wants — an education, a job and ultimately, happiness.
I realized Buck really was singing to me. But at the same time, he was singing to every other person in that audience. He cared about all of them. Each person meant something to him.
He sang that song for a reason. People love to be loved. And when he teaches others that song, he doesn't only give others his love, but he shows everyone else the importance of loving one another.
The impact of his death will pass, and the impact of his message will most likely pass with it. It's just how this society seems to work.
But maybe, just once, we can listen to Buck. Maybe this time, we can stand up at a speech 20 years later and say, "A wise man once sang a song to me. It went something like this..."
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