You should always follow your mother's advice. Well, almost always. Consider this story that comedian Tim Conway shared in his recent Christopher Closeup interview about his new memoir, What’s So Funny? My Hilarious Life.
During his third year starring in the 1960’s sitcom McHale’s Navy, Conway got a call from his mother Sophia in Ohio. She told him, “Ken Shutts down at the hardware store is taking on new help. You know him rather well, so you should apply.”
Surprised, Conway responded, “Ma, have you been watching television in the last couple of years?”
Sophia answered, “I saw it, but that junk isn't going to last. You've got a chance to get a good steady job. You should take it.”
Thankfully, Conway didn’t pursue that job, which freed him up to make it onto The Carol Burnett Show, where he cemented his comedic legacy. Surprisingly, show business was not his first career choice. He told me, “I wanted to be a jockey. But at this weight, even the horses ask you to get off. Plus, I fell off a lot, and people betting on you would like to see you on the horse when it comes across the finish line.”
A pivotal spiritual moment in Conway's life came in high school. He was playing in a football game when he got hit hard in the back. He writes in his book that he was unable to talk or “feel anything below my neck let alone move.” His team members grabbed his arms and legs and carried him off the field. A doctor took an X-ray, found nothing broken, and put him in a neck brace for a few weeks.
Many years later, Conway visited a doctor due to back spasms. The doctor told him his “spasms were a residual effect stemming from a broken vertebra.” Conway insisted he'd never broken a vertebra, so the doctor asked if he’d ever had a sports injury. Conway told him about the high school football incident.
The doctor replied, “Here’s what I think. Your vertebra probably was broken when you were hit, but when they picked you up and carried you to the locker room, your back got stretched out. I’d guess that the vertebra went back into place. The X-ray may not have shown anything at the time but, I assure you, you came very close to being permanently disabled. If they hadn’t moved you, it might have been a different story.”
Conway writes, “Ever since that incident on the football field, which might have altered the course of my life, Jesus and I have stayed in constant touch. I never stop saying thank you.”
Though Conway, who converted to Catholicism in college, doesn’t wear his faith on his sleeve, his relationship with God remains important to him. He admits that his journey of faith hasn’t always been a straight line, but adds, “All straight lines get a little crooked from time to time, but I tried to maintain a decent life.”
When I asked Conway what he hopes readers learn from his book, he said, “I hope it helps them better know what my outlook on life was – to see life as humorous and enjoyable. I think God has placed me in several positions, which I have found humorous. I find humor in life itself, and I can hardly wait to thank Him in person.”
(This essay is a recent “Light One Candle” column, written by Tony Rossi, of The Christophers; it is one of a series of weekly columns that deal with a variety of topics and current events.)
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