Sunday Night With John: Just a Kid from Orwell, Ohio

Part Four of "Chasing The Invisible": examines who John Paul Derryberry is halfway to seventy.  I have lived long enough to go through major life moments, but still have a long life ahead of me to figure out the greater conundrums facing my existence.

To catch up click here for part one:http://jpderryberry.com/blog/foodie

Or here for part two: http://jpderryberry.com/blog/goodbye

Or for part three:http://jpderryberry.com/blog/mryumski

It is one thing to know who you are at your core; it’s another to understand how you got there. That took a journey down memory lane, going back to my childhood in Colebrook and Orwell, Ohio.  I grew up in a house in which it was out of the question not to speak your mind. The drive down memory lane took me to one of the most vivid memories I have of my father. During my freshman year in high school, a certain coach told me that I either had to run cross country or play football. Doing neither was not an option. I came home and talked about it with my dad as I really didn't want anything to do with either sport. I just wanted to play basketball and baseball. Small town living comes with its unique set of pressures, in my case, the expectation that I would be just like my older brother who had been the star quarterback of the high school football team.

As I told my dad about my problem, he asked me, do you want to play either of those sports? I said I didn’t really want to but I didn’t want to make this coach mad. My Dad pondered for a second, leaning back in his chair.  Then he said, "John, if you keep doing things you do not want to do so people won’t get mad at you, you will be doing stuff you do not want to do your whole life." I asked him what to say to this coach. My dad replied, “You tell him your dad and mom are the only two people who get to tell you what to do, and that you have decided not to play sports in the fall.” I asked my dad to do it for me because I was scared. He said, “Son, you have to find a way to stand up for yourself at some point in life or you will be searching for someone to solve your problems for you forever.” So the next day I went to the coach and he asked me what my decision was. I looked down at the ground, took a deep breath and somehow located my backbone at age 13. I picked my head up, made eye contact with him, and said, "Coach, I talked with my dad and he said he is the only man who gets to tell me what I have to do, so I have decided to not play sports this fall” and I walked out. I never again doubted my ability to step into a situation where I was scared and nervous, locate my backbone, and do what I felt was right.

As I continued my drive down memory lane I landed on my mom. My mom pulled me aside one day after I came home from fifth grade. She asked if I wanted to start taking drum lessons. I was getting permission to be loud so I quickly said, yes, before she could change her mind. On the drive down to Daybreak Music, she explained that the community will want you to be just like your brother and sister and I want you to know you can be yourself, have different interests, get involved in different things and be the goofy kid you are. I was different than my brother and sister in that my head was often in the clouds imagining weird stuff. My mom nurtured and laughed at that side of me, in a way that took away worries about the world not accepting my weird energy. While I was in junior high, we were on vacation with a bunch of family friends. My mom had me perform my on-the-spot impression of Jim Carrey from Pet Detective. They all laughed and I felt permission to be loud, to entertain, laugh, and not hold back. Thus, my odd, goofy energy was unpacked and let loose in the world. No one has successfully put it back in the bag.

I know I’m just a guy from a small town in Ohio. But that did not stop me from deciding, because of a loving family and caring community that big dreams were not reachable. My life took different turns and dreams changed from one thing to another. I never thought I would land on inspirational speaker. As I have examined the invisible I guess I could say my dream and purpose in life was invisible to me. Now, the passion and energy to speak publicly about culture, emotions, suicide, mental health, the grieving process, and reaching people has been unpacked and no one has been able to put it back in. Every time I step on stage, turn the microphone on and I’m in front of an audience I help them deal with the life events that have shaken them to their core. My words and stories carrying with them my dad’s ability to stand up to authority, and my mom’s energy,  lessons from family and friends of Orwell, Ohio. Most importantly they carry my desire that everyone deserves better. And I’m firmly settled on who I am, and more importantly why I do it, and  if you don’t like it, I don’t care, because (channelling my inner eight-year old) “My mom and dad said I could".