Approaching the massive building, David picked his way through a line of taxicabs and stepped up onto a broad sidewalk. There were a few people, well dressed and evidently somewhat late, hurriedly making their way through the turnstiles. David walked around for a few minutes, seeing the same scene repeated at every gate. He searched through his pockets, knowing he had no money, but thinking that just possibly a ticket might have magically appeared. Stranger things have happened, he thought wryly.
Okay, David thought as he stood looking up at the arena, I have no ticket, I have no money, I’m freezing to death—what next? Thinking that perhaps a ticket had been left in his name, David approached the ticket booth to the right of the nearest entryway and spoke to the woman behind the glass. “Excuse me,” he said.
She wore a dark green sweater that accented her red hair. The lady was, David determined, in her early to mid-fifties. At the moment, with bifocals perched precariously on the end of her nose, she was speedily counting ticket stubs. As she paused to key in some numbers on her calculator, David tried again. “Excuse me, ma’am.” She looked up. Opening his mouth to speak, David realized that she was smiling at a man walking up behind him.
“May I help you?” the ticket lady asked the man as David eased himself to the side. Watching the two interact, he thought, So I can’t be seen in the future either.
David walked slowly around the arena again. Several times, from inside, he heard the thunderous ovations of what was obviously a very large number of people. He stopped briefly as a small unmarked and unlit side entrance opened a few yards in front of him.
A skinny little man emerged into the dim light. Obviously a janitor, he wore coveralls and carried a push broom. Setting the broom against the concrete wall of the building, the man shook out a ski cap, stretched it over his head, and reached into his pocket for a pipe. As a match flared, David could see more of the man’s face. Old, he thought.
He was not consciously interested in the man’s age. It was just his mind’s simple acknowledgment of what his eyes were taking in. David started to walk again in a direction that took him within a few feet of the janitor. The old man glanced up as David approached and nodded, lifting his pipe.
“Good evening,” he said. “You doing all right?”
“Fine, thank you,” David responded automatically. Then, suddenly excited, he stopped. “Hey! You can see me?”
“Well, yeah. I can see you,” the man said, somewhat confused. He placed the pipe back in his mouth. “I ain’t blind yet, son. Just because I’m . . .” David had moved closer, and for the first time, the old man got a good look at David’s face. “Holy cow!” he said. The pipe, unclenched from the man’s teeth, fell from his mouth and rattled on the sidewalk. David quickly bent and retrieved it. “I didn’t know you were . . . ,” the man stammered. “I am very sorry, sir.
“Thank you very much,” the man said as he took the pipe and immediately put it in his pocket. David wondered briefly if it was still lit but didn’t ask. He was too curious about the way the old gentleman was acting. “Sir,” the old man said, “if you don’t mind me asking, are you just here checking everything out? There’s a lot of people in there tonight that’re mighty grateful to you, sir. My wife’s not going to believe this! May I shake your hand, Mr. Ponder? My name is Jack Miller.”
Shaking his hand, David asked, “You know who I am?”
“Don’t worry,” Jack said conspiratorially as he looked left and right. “I understand . . . and I ain’t tellin’ nobody. I’d want to sneak in here and see this, too, if they was all talking about me! You know, I didn’t even recognize you at first. Shoot, with your hair dyed like that, you look like one of your old pictures. Say,” he paused, suddenly concerned, “should you be walking around alone like this?”
David smiled slightly with his eyebrows raised. He was trying to take all this in. “I’ll be fine,” he said. “By the way, do you mind if I go in this door?”
Jack grinned. “Well, I reckon. You built the place. You go in any door you like! Follow me.” And with that, the old man shoved his cap back into his pocket, stepped inside, and with a motion of his hand, encouraged David to stay close.
They walked through a short hall and made their way to a large tunnel that seemed to circle the arena underground. David was trying to comprehend the fact that somehow he had, or would have, something to do with the presence of this huge place. Striding through the tunnel, Jack waved several times at different groups of workers. They waved, nodded, or called his name in reply. “Your disguise is working great,” Jack whispered loudly to David. “Don’t nobody even recognize you!”
Well, David thought as he fought to suppress a laugh, they don’t recognize me because they don’t see me. You, on the other hand, walking along, waving at everybody, and talking to yourself—you must be a sight to see!
“Hey,” Jack said as he skidded to a stop. “I didn’t even ask. Where do you want to go? Should I take you to your sky box?”
David shook his head. This was a little much. “I’d just like to wander around a bit by myself. Is that okay?”
Jack looked at David as if he had lost his mind. “Are you sure?” he said. “I can walk around with you if you want.”
“No, that won’t be necessary. But I really appreciate the offer. And by the way,” David added as he stuck out his hand, “it has been an honor to meet you.”
“Ha!” Jack snorted as he pumped David’s hand vigorously. “An honor to meet me. Wait’ll I tell my wife.”
David left the old man and continued walking through the tunnel. Presently, he came upon an offshoot ramp that, he saw, led into the main arena. Entering the main floor, David was astonished by the sheer number of people. He had assumed by the size of the building that the seating capacity was very large, but he had, for some reason, never really imagined this place filled. There must have been four thousand people on the floor level alone.
Stepping away from the shadow of the entry ramp, David did a slow turn. He quickly noted the gigantic video screens hung from the ceiling. These were used to bring a large audience close to the action of any event. From his vantage point, David could see that they were certainly needed here. There were fully three decks completely surrounding the main floor, each seat filled to the very top. Twenty-five thousand people in all? David thought. Maybe thirty thousand?
David had heard cheers and applause several times from outside the arena and twice from the tunnel. The noise inside, he knew, would be deafening. At the moment, however, he was amazed at the virtual silence of the place. No one was walking around or even moving in the seats. No one coughed or cleared a throat. Every person in the arena was focusing every ounce of attention on the stage.
The stage, considering the enormity of its surroundings, was a relatively simple affair. It was elegantly decorated with greenery and six white Roman-style columns that rose from the stage floor to a height of approximately twenty feet. The stage was not positioned at the far end of the arena as one might have expected but, instead, was placed at the wide edge of the floor up against the first rising deck of people. The back of the platform was open so as not to obstruct the view from any angle. The effect was one of a theater-in-the-round.
It was only David’s subconscious, however, that noticed anything about the stage itself. His primary attention was drawn to the center of the platform, behind the glass podium. Like the eyes of thousands of others in attendance, David’s eyes were riveted to the man who was speaking.
Though standing on the opposite side of the arena, David almost directly faced the stage and was near enough to see that the speaker was a large man. He was at least three inches over six feet tall with a slim build and wore an expensive light gray double-breasted suit. The man appeared to be in his mid-forties and was ruggedly handsome— striking in a sense—his dark hair contrasting sharply with his suit. And he was crying.
David stared hard at the man, then glanced at a screen nearby to confirm in close-up what
he thought he was seeing. Sure enough, there were tears rolling down this big man’s face as he said, “It was only six years ago. We were out of money and out of hope. With my nine-year-old daughter lying in the hospital in critical condition, I was still working twenty-hour days, but financially, it wasn’t enough. There was no longer any insurance and seemingly no help.
“As I drove my beat-up car home from work that night, I couldn’t stop looking at the picture of my little girl that I had lying on the seat beside me. It was a photograph of her when she was in the third grade. I began to let my mind wander around the possibilities involved in helping my family collect the only insurance that remained, the insurance on my life.”
David scarcely breathed as he listened, transfixed, to this man’s story that was so eerily similar to his own.
“With money to pay the bills and make a new start,” he said, the corners of his mouth quivering downward and his voice cracking, “I thought that maybe someday my wife could find a new husband—my child would have a new daddy. One who wouldn’t let them down. I thought that maybe I could still give my family the life they deserved.
“I pulled off the side of the road, and as I sat there alone and thinking, I took the photograph of my child and held it in my hands. I could imagine the tubes running in and out of her body. I closed my eyes and could hear the respirator forcing air into her lungs. And suddenly, I felt ashamed!
“I felt ashamed for ever thinking of leaving her, for ever thinking of quitting. Yes, I felt ashamed. But I also felt strong again because I knew that this was a point in my life to which the First Decision truly applied. I looked at my child, my blood, my responsibility in that picture, and I said, ‘The buck stops here. If you can fight that hard for your life, then surely I can fight as hard for your future!’ ”
David had been so unnerved by the reference to the Seven Decisions and so caught up in what this man was pouring from his heart that he was startled by the sudden and thunderous ovation. People all over the arena stood and clapped, applauding the honesty and courage of this man while he stood there, uncomfortably waiting for them to finish, tears streaming down his face.
As the applause died away and the audience settled back into their seats, David saw a single empty chair on the aisle, less than fifteen rows from the stage. Walking quickly, he moved to take the seat. He eased himself down and looked back up to the podium as the speaker continued.
“It was a simple choice really. A choice made under duress. But now, of course, our lives have been transformed— financially, emotionally, spiritually—literally transformed in every way. My family has been set free. You see, it wasn’t enough that I possessed the Seven Decisions for Success or even that I understood their meaning. The moment I decided to make them a part of my life was the moment that the future of my family was secured for generations.”
The man paused to drink from a glass of water. He wiped his eyes with a handkerchief and moved beside the podium. Resting his left elbow on its surface, he gestured with his right hand and said, “Think with me now. It is true that most of us have a rather limited view of the world, its history, and our own ability to affect the outcome of anything beyond our neighborhoods. In terms of personal history and legacy, we tend to restrict our concern to only three—some of us four—generations. The vast majority of us do not even know the first names of our great-grandparents!
“Some years ago now, but well within the scope of our own generation, David Ponder bestowed upon the world the gift of the possibility of success for anyone. Our presence here tonight is evidence of the fruit of that gift. But I am here to challenge you to grasp a future that is far beyond your present thoughts and actions.
“There comes a time in every person’s life when a decision is required. And that decision, should you make it, will have a far-reaching effect on generations yet unborn. There is a thin thread that weaves only from you to hundreds of thousands of lives. Your example, your actions, and yes, even one decision can literally change the world. Let me say that one more time. One decision, that you make, can literally change the world.”
The speaker curiously held eye contact with the audience for several seconds after his last statement. Then he slipped back behind the podium and drank from his glass again. Replacing the glass under the podium, he regarded the crowd with a chuckle. “You know,” he began, “it is an amazing feeling to be doubted by thousands of people at once!” He smiled as the crowd reacted with warm laughter of their own. “Okay, I’m going to try this again! One decision, that you make, can literally change the world!”
And with that, the man moved to the edge of the stage and began animatedly telling a story. David sat spellbound as the speaker moved over every inch of the platform, involving the audience in front of him, behind him, and those at the very top of the arena. The story he told, though it had happened more than a century earlier, was absolutely accurate in its detail. David knew this to be true because he had been there.
“July second, eighteen sixty-three. It was a hot, humid day, and a schoolteacher from Maine was in the fight of his life.
“His name was Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain, formerly a professor of rhetoric from Bowdoin College, presently a thirty-four-year-old colonel in the Union army. The place? Gettysburg, Pennsylvania.”
The speaker then described the dangerous situation Chamberlain’s troops faced that day as they tried to hold their position against General Lee’s men, the Army of Northern Virginia. After five bloody attacks from the Rebels, Chamberlain realized his troops would not be able to hold them off any longer.
The speaker explained, “More than half his regiment was dead, and many of his remaining soldiers were wounded. He was outnumbered by better than five to one, and the last skirmish had taken place on both sides of the wall, face-to-face. He didn’t know how they had pushed the Rebels back down the hill. Some of his men, he later wrote, had been punching the enemy with their fists.
“As they quickly surveyed the situation, it became apparent that there were less than two bullets per man remaining. For all intents and purposes, the Twentieth Maine was out of ammunition. Glancing downhill and seeing the attackers readying themselves for a final assault, looking at what seemed to be certain defeat, certain death, Chamberlain’s own officers counseled retreat. ‘They outnumber us,’ the men cried, ‘and we have nothing with which to fight. It is hopeless. It is hopeless.’
“Joshua Chamberlain stood quietly for a moment. ‘Here they come, sir,’ a sergeant said urgently. Chamberlain didn’t respond. He was calculating the cost of freezing, remaining, staying where he was. The cost, he determined, was essentially the same as running away.
“ ‘Joshua!’ It was his first lieutenant, his brother Tom. ‘Joshua!’ he screamed. ‘Give an order!’
“And so he did. Chamberlain knew he had not been put on this earth to fail. But failure is the only possible result of a life that accepts the status quo. We move forward, or we die! ‘Fix bayonets!’ he barked. And his men looked at him as if he were crazy.
“ ‘Excuse me, sir?’ the sergeant asked, and for a moment, they all just stood there and stared.
“‘They’re coming!’ came a yell from down the line.
“ ‘Fix bayonets, I said!’ he yelled. ‘And charge!’ As his men scrambled to fasten their steels, Chamberlain drew his sword and jumped to the top of the wall. With the enemy now a little more than fifty yards away, he pointed his sword at them and screamed, ‘Charge! Charge!’ and the fighting men of the Twentieth Maine Regiment, the pride of the Army of the Potomac, poured over the wall and followed a schoolteacher into history!
“The Confederate troops, upon seeing the leader of the opposition mount the wall, immediately stopped, unsure as to what was happening. But when Chamberlain pointed his sword toward them and commanded his men to charge, they literally turned and ran. Many threw down their loaded weapons. They were certain that these were not the same soldiers they had been facing. Surely, there had been massive r
einforcements. In their minds, it was not even within the realm of possibility that a beaten regiment would charge.
“In less than ten minutes, the ragged group of men under Chamberlain’s command, without any ammunition at all at this point, captured the entire regiments of the Fifteenth Alabama and the Forty-seventh Alabama, more than four hundred men. Of course, it all happened because one man made a decision to charge.
“And one decision, that you make, can literally change the world.”
The audience leaped out of their seats with a roar, David with them, clapping and cheering the truth, as they saw it, of the speaker’s final statement. The story of Joshua Chamberlain had inspired them, and rightly so, David thought. It was an incredible event in our nation’s history, and as he well knew, the speaker had been exacting in his details.
As the applause died away, David realized that the tall speaker was still on stage. In fact, he had crossed his arms and was leaning both elbows heavily on the podium. A slight smile on his face, he appeared to be patiently waiting. When the last person had settled back into his seat, and the arena was again enveloped in silence, his smile broadened. “You-all thought I was through, didn’t you?”
David laughed with everyone else.
“Well, see now,” he began again, “I just couldn’t leave you thinking what you’re thinking. And I know,” he said with a laugh, “what you’re thinking!” He moved out to the far edge of the stage. “You’re thinking, Okay. That was a great story, but you’re telling me I can change the world? Come on! You say, ‘Hey! Even Joshua Chamberlain changed the outcome of only one small part of one battle!’ Oh, really? Well, consider this.
“It is an accepted fact that, at the time of the Battle of Gettysburg, the North—the Union—was losing badly. Confederate troops had taken Fort Sumter, then routed the Union army at Manassas. Lee’s men won major victories at Richmond in the Battles of the Seven Days and once again at Manassas in the Second Battle of Bull Run. The South defeated General Hooker’s divisions at Chancellorsville and dealt a crushing blow to General Burnside at Fredericksburg.