Random Musings and other Distractions - Two

by David A. Cronin

Of all my childhood memories there is one that stands out among the others. It is not a holiday, a graduation or some rite of passage. It actually was a very simple, quiet day that took no real planning.

It was a warm, summer afternoon when my dad took my older brother and myself out to where he used to play as a boy. We went deep into some woods to a large lake. At one point we had to walk on an abandoned railroad track that went over a small chasm, balancing ourselves on the narrow beam. We went one-by-one, encouraging each other like three best friends. We spent the afternoon skimming stones across the water, exchanging stories, telling jokes, laughing and in moments in between, just being silent. I remember those moments of silence. They were silent, not because no one could think of anything to say, but because we didn't feel the need to say anything. We were together and everything was all right.

What strikes me as why that stands out so much in my memory is not so much that it was out of the ordinary, but because my experience of my dad was out of context with my normal perception of him, and through that, how I related to him and my bother that day. I was around twelve or thirteen and just starting to come to grips with my self-identity. I got a glimpse of what my Dad was like when he was my age and it gave me a sense of confidence and pride.

I had a very humbling experience a while back. I was driving in town and had to stop at a traffic light at one our major intersections. Frequently there are homeless people in the median looking for handouts and I usually will give them some change that I keep handy.

This particular day I was feeling rather depressed and was just driving around. I was not in a hurry to get to my destination, as I was not in a hurry to get to the next moment. I was lost in thought, in a rather dark space.

All at once I heard a raspy voice say, "Hey buddy, did you hear me?" Startled, I looked up to see a grungy looking homeless man right by my window. While I didn't hear what he had asked me I knew what he wanted. I looked up and said, "just a sec." And then fumbled around trying to come out of my darkness enough to fine my loose change container. I was so depressed I couldn't manage that simple act. Finally, I just looked up at him and said, "Look, I'm sorry. I just can't today."

Then the most extraordinary thing happened. Our eyes locked and he just starred at me for a moment. Then his face softened dramatically, he reached over and gently squeezed my elbow that was resting out the open window, gave me a warm smile and nodded his head. It was as if he was saying, "It'll be okay. Sometimes life is like that. I know."

The light changed and I drove away. I was amazed that through that simple gesture of empathy from a homeless man I felt tremendously lighter, my spirits considerable higher. I felt as if he had given me a gift. He didn't try to help me, he didn't offer me any time-worn platitudes; he was just simply present and acknowledged my experience.

I drove around the block to thank him and to give him some money but he was no longer there.

I really did not know my grandparents. I only saw them about every four years and most of them died when I was a teenager. I have a few trinkets that belonged to them. One of the items that belonged to my father's mother is an old-type alarm clock. It's the wind-up kind with the two bells on top and the clapper that goes back and forth. It no longer works and the glass front in cracked. I have often thought about getting it fixed but each time I decide that I like it better this way.

Sometimes when I am looking for something I will happen upon it. I will hold it in my hands and image her as a young mother, setting it at bedtime and then turning it off in morning. Then getting up to get 'her babies', my dad and his younger brother, ready for school. I will remember the pies she used to bake for me; sitting with her at her kitchen table, eating pie and sharing stories.

I think about what my children, and should they have children, my grandchildren will hold one day to remember me by. Can I have an influence now on what that be? I think I can.

While material things are not as important as things of the spirit, such as love and values, physical things have a wonderful, one wonders if not inspired, way of falling into the one's hands at appropriate times. They fall into our hands as reminders of love and lessons from our cherished past.

David A. Cronin is the Content Manager for New Age Cities. David welcomes your Questions and Comments; he can be reached at "content@newagecities.com".

If you have enjoyed this article, may we suggest the following; also from David :

	Sacred Objects
	What would you have me know ?
	Embarrassing Moments and a Girl Named Summer
	Random Musings and Other Distractions - Part I
	Random Musings and Other Distractions - Part II
	Psychic Experience and Car Maintenance
	The Empty Frame Upon the Wall
	Things I would like to be, just for a moment.
	Echoes of the Past
	The Park

Share this with a Friend  |  Return to the Inspirations Home