Mercer Musings

I recently witnessed a hero’s final flight. On this Memorial Day, I want to be sure to pause and remember the service of this soldier and others who have laid down their lives for our nation. May we never forget “the last full measure of devotion” given by those men and women for us. Headed Home Truth be told, I don’t actually know much about this hero. I wish I did.   I was on his plane because I was headed home at the end of a work trip in Dallas.  Admittedly, my eyes were heavy during the usual pre-flight announcements. I do usually try to at least look like I’m paying attention. I figure maybe it’s a little moral support for the flight attendants. But this time I felt extra tired. I had heard every word of this script many times before, and I was ready for a break. My weary mind was also a bit distracted as the couple seated next to me scrolled through their Instagram feeds—volume on. It was soft and not really worth getting fixated on, but I hoped they would eventually do...

We were just two dads in my home’s driveway. Just shooting the breeze after a neighborhood yard sale. Well, I was trying. Mostly, I was listening and doing my best through body language to communicate welcome and thanks. He was a refugee from Afghanistan. I’m not sure if “refugee” is the correct legal term for his status. But I knew he and his family had to leave his homeland. Why? They were yearning for a new and better world. They dreamed of freedom and opportunity. And they had helped us. As this dad told me about his long journey, it wasn’t just his broken English that kept me quiet. I wanted to listen. I wanted to see. I wanted him to know that I heard him and that his story was not falling on deaf ears. I understood. Except, I don’t really. The World Is a Big Place There were actually three of us. Hearing from a kindred spirit that we might have some household items to give away after our yard sale, the man’s friend and fellow countryman had also come along to take a look.   ...

Have  you ever googled yourself? I have, and it always keeps me grounded. After all, I am just one expression of Aaron Mercer in an apparent multiverse of us. Ok, not a multiverse really. The other Aaron Mercers are not other versions of me. And I’m not an alternate reality for them. We are completely distinct. Different. Unrelated.   We have no common storyline, as far as I can tell. No family ties, at least not in living memory. Some of us aren’t even in the same country. Any contact I may have had with the other Aaron Mercers would be purely incidental. Like, maybe we were in the same airport or standing in the same Disney line, and we had no idea that we held a common bond. Crazier small world situations have happened. But even though we have the same name, we are, essentially, irrelevant to another. Yet, perhaps a significance underlies that unrelatedness.   The Association of Aarons Before I dig into that thought more, I should probably mention one particular reaso...