When you’re a kid playing football at recess you have a pretty good understanding of toughness – its name was Billy and you could not tackle him. Every time he got the ball he ran it in for a touchdown. Kids (like me) played with a deep, inner fear whenever he was on the opposite team.
Billy was tough.
Now that I’m older, the word tough has taken on a new meaning. No longer would I compare it with the aggression and strength of a backyard brawler. Toughness belongs to single-parents, widows and cancer survivors –those that have lost the ones they loved and those that never feel like they fit in.
I used to associate toughness with winning, but I have seen a lot of brokenness and defeat lately.
The survivors, the desperate, the creatives –the downcast and marginalized; they’re tough.