MEDIOCRITY

MEDIOCRITY

I live a life

That’s different you see

I live a life

Of abstract mediocrity

Ideas of glory

That I see

Die the death

Of insidious mediocrity

Ideas I have

The light of day they never see

They go down

In a blaze of mediocrity

Thoughts I dream

When confronted by a PhD

Wither on the vine

Of complete mediocrity.

To aid the human race

A dream I see

Gets mired down

In the muck of mediocrity

From a family of money

I may not be

But I can aspire

To the heights of mediocrity

Dreams of successes

As a child wee

As an adult I aspire

To raise above mediocrity

My thoughts are all there

And the visions I see

I get told are full

Of complete mediocrity

To be taken seriously

I seek to be

But all that I get

Is the glare of mediocrity?

A voice of velvet

It will never be

I sing my way

Around in mediocrity

Some people do tell

That greatness is in me

But the ones in the know

Say I am bound to mediocrity

Ideas do flow

And people agree

When they are mine

They remain in mediocrity

If ideas are others

Places they see

But when they are mine

They mire in mediocrity

How I do strive

To put in my life some electricity

And bring my lot

Above that of utter mediocrity

The harder I strive

The more that I try

The more I fail

To get out of mediocrity.

Maybe I should resign

And accept I will be

Continually bogged down

In a field of mediocrity

Stories I hear

Of escaping the bonds that tie

May people down

In the blues of mediocrity

Though shrug the bonds

I try

The people around push me back

Down in the depths of mediocrity

When an education

I continued to see

Those in the know

Tried to confirm my mediocrity

When it comes time, argue

Who am I to be

The scholars tell me

I should be content with mediocrity.

This poem seems to have become a biography of my life. Though I struggle and try to fight my way out, I seem never to be able to shrug the bound of a mediocrity or obscurity.Everything I do is overshadowed by the accomplishments of someone else. I do not even really seem to have an identity of my own. When I was in high school, I was constantly asked if I was Bill or Pam's brother. When I was first married everyone introduced me or identified me as Henry Parson's son in law. When he passed away I felt that identity would finally pass away, and then people would identify me as Janet's husband. In the course of my work I run into to people who ask me if I am the Bartoswicz who does the furniture refinishing, which of course was my brother, who hasn't done that work in several years.

The key that really hit home that I was somewhat mediocre, and obscure was an article recently in the newspaper thanking the work of the Effingham Budget Committee for their work and the writer identified me as Frank Bartoswicz. I walked out of church on Sunday and in passing a lady of the church I said hello to her with the response of a blank stare, yet when my wife walked by her, she responded to my wife by touching her arm and exclaiming how nice it was to see her. I seem to be a shadow that just blends in with the background, almost a non entity. I go out of my way to respond to people and let them know I care. I'd give the shirt off my back if that is what is needed. I am a simple man and do not require a lot to keep me happy. To have e few people outside of my family notice my blog and comment on it, to have my book be even moderately succesful would make me happy, but what would make me even happier is to have people recognize me for me not as an extension of someone else. I am a person in my own right not Khrys' Dad, or Janet's Husband, I have my own accomplishments and my own joys and sorrows.