Fragile and Precious

Yesterday was a good day. After a lazy morning - coffee by the fireplace and conversation with my lover - we drive to a delicious brunch, a bourbon acquisition trip, and a trip to the haberdashery for some new man-threads.

All in all, it came close to the ideal Saturday morning for two middle-aged, successful working professionals. I was aware of how lucky we are.

Later in the day, on my way to the hardware store, I take a cut-through to avoid snarled traffic and notice an older gentleman with a gray ponytail and a tattered suit slowly shuffling in the alley behind a strip mall.

It would not be unusual for someone to be walking on such a beautiful fall day - but something caught my eye as I considered him in the rear view mirror. As I watched, he sat down awkwardly on the curb and looked down at the pavement.

So, here I am - in the convertible with the top down - aware of a fellow human being - and something told me that I must turn around. So I did.

I drove up and asked him, "Sir, are you OK?"

As he looked up at me, and I saw a face that broke my heart. His was a face weather-beaten and tanned. But even more, it was a face that reflected a hard life - with wrinkles that recorded the weariness of hardship and the deep furrows of sorrow.

He began to tell me the story of attending his mother's funeral. How he left his hospital bed in Florida to come and bury his beloved mom - against the wishes of his doctors and social worker. "But I love my Mom. I had to come" - he told me.

And his story went on - and with near desperation and quivering voice that pierces me still - he told me of all the awful, terrible things that have happened to him as he merely came to honor his loving mother.

He was threatened with a gun by a man he thought was offering him a ride. He was abandoned by cousins he thought had promised him a ride home to Clearwater. He showed me the broken collarbone that threatened to kill him if not corrected by the delayed surgery for which he was hospitalized.

And to top it off, that broken collarbone came from saving a young boy from being hit by a speeding automobile.

And so, nearly broken myself from the story, I meekly asked him "Sir, how can I help you?"

His reply was simple. "I need $38.16 (plus tax) to afford my bus ticket home - and I need some money for food. I've only had a package of crackers to eat since I got here. And I need a ride to the house of my mother's lawn-man - and he lives on DuckTown road…"

Oh my god. There was a part of me - although broken-hearted - who wondered how such a pitiful story could be true. That damned accountant brain is unrelenting at times.

But then, as I reflected on my near perfect day, as I realized the unbelievable privileges I enjoy daily, I gave him all the money in my pocket - enough for his ticket and some food, too. And then I drove him to the small house on DuckTown Road, listened as he told me to be careful backing out - as it was a busy street - and tried my best to suppress the sobs welling up from deep inside of me.

As I drove to Lowe's, in a beautiful blue BMW, the sun warming my face and the wind whistling in my hearing aids, I could not shake the gnawing sadness in my belly.

And then, I arrive home and read a FaceBook post from Gordon Richard - where he recounts the horrors of a nude, murdered young woman found in the creek behind his home - a mere 25 feet from his kitchen window.

Why am I writing such a long-winded recounting?

Because I want us all to stop and remember how fragile our life is. For those of us lucky enough to have lovers and friends, family and jobs, health and a positive bank balance - it is easy to forget that beneath the veneer of stability and health is a world of sadness and suffering that can break through in an instant.

All of those I love, many who I see rarely, are exposed daily to speeding vehicles, deadly viruses, and potential violence. It is the world in which we live.

Our country - at times staggering through history as a drunken sailor while at others arriving like a super-hero to oppose tyranny - is now engaged in an election that will determine our course over then next 4 years - and possibly much longer.

Please know, nothing is assured. All of the sacrifice of our founders, long-dead soldiers and presidents - the love, sweat and tears of our forebears and family can be swept away in a single generation - a single election.

Love, courage, compassion - all three are choices we make in the face of hatred, fear and selfishness.

Please remember - as you enjoy your Sunday routine - there are those whose life has never once been as wonderful as even your average day.

Help me remember this. Help me never stop feeling the sorrow of a broken and dark world.

Help me remember that this world is so much bigger - so much more wonderful - and so much more sorrowful that this sunny November morning would suggest.

 dg
Sent from my iPad